Dearest readers.

I know I've been absent on this platform on the last few months, not only in this book, but on my other stories as well, and I deeply apologize for that.

To those that enjoy my work, I'm sorry.

This is not a goodbye, I don't plan on giving up on writing, if I'm honest with y'all, writing and reading is what breaks me from reality and makes my life better on most days.

I have always loved reading books, suspense and horror stories being my favorites, and I got into writing when I didn't really like when a story ended or just really didn't like the characters and thought I could do it better... well, when I write it down it seems a little narcissistic, but if you're here it means you at least like the versions I created.

I'm an introvert if you haven't noticed, I'm not one to be interacting constantly and posting things on my bio, but I think I own an explanation to those loyal enough to continue here, waiting for an update, although you'll have to deal with the small version of the story:

I fell in love with a collector.

I didn't know it in the beginning, of course, too blind believing the things he said instead of really seeing the things as they were.

My lover had a thing for dolls, so many dolls... and he wouldn't give up on them, not even when he would say he had found 'the one', me.

I don't have the best temper, I'm not a saint, our situationship, which was more of that than anything, was very troublesome and full of conflicts, if I tell you we could go a full week without fighting I would be lying.

There were so many lies...

So many...

I sincerely gave everything and everything and everything, until I started to give parts of me I shouldn't have to give to anyone. I accepted things I told myself I would never accept, became someone I didn't know anymore.

You see, I was never one for crying, my little sister would play around saying that I didn't even cry while cutting onions, but I found myself crying on the showers every time the boiling water would hit my skin.

I fought for him, so much... I became the romantic I never knew I was, searching for ways on how to age paper to make letters and making moving graphs that would become a heart (I'm an engineer, don't judge), I made him my home, my happiness, and that was my worst mistake.

I became vulnerable for someone I knew would hurt me in the end.

For those who like my stories, I am truly sorry, but I am hurt.

I could continue writing, end up forcing something, but this is not how I like things to go. I like to enjoy the process of writing, I like to feel the story, I love the feeling of each scene as I write them and this is not happening at the moment.

I'm putting myself back together, however, so do not worry. Soon enough I plan on coming back here with chapters worthy of your attention 🙂.

This is all for the moment, but please, never accept anything less than someone who treats you like a goddess, don't ever back down from expressing your feelings, you're allowed to have them, you need them.

And please, hear me out, be your own home, be the reason you fight for, be your own soul mate, because there is no one out there worthy of love more than yourself.

With love, M.