A love story that burns, ruins, and frees.
I write behind a mask—hidden from religion, family, and the past that tried to erase me.
These stories are fictional, but the pain is real. So is the love.

To the ones still pretending.
To those who buried themselves to be what the world asked for—
controlled, quiet, proper.
And to the ones who refused to be anything but wild—
still free, still loud, still raw—
but feeling the pressure to soften, to settle, to disappear.

This is for the ones who ache to be seen without shrinking.
To be loved without taming.
To be owned without losing themselves.

This story is for you.

— Jay Dirk

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