I'm not writing this for anyone but me. Not for validation. Not for pity. Not for applause or approval. This blog isn’t some "comeback" story. It’s not a grand proclamation of how I’m going to rise from the ashes—because, honestly? I don’t even know if that’s possible right now. Right now, all I want to do is hide. From life. From people. From everything that’s been hurled at me. There’s no tidy, shiny ending to this. No "win" against life, the world, or anyone else. I’m just here, writing, because I can't keep everything inside anymore. I’m unraveling. Trying to make sense of a truth that’s been distorted for so long. There’s a part of my life still lost in the fog of lies, manipulation, and deceit. The parts I thought I understood? I don’t anymore. The story I thought I was living was never the whole story. The layers of manipulation—by people I trusted, by institutions I believed in, by family, by friends, by religious organizations—run so dee...