Dear Diary: Introduction

Dear Diary,

This is the first time I write you, but I truly hope it’s not the last. It's just us tonight—no eyes, no whispers from the outside.

I've been carrying this weight for so long, the kind that clips wings before they even spread. However, I managed to set myself free. Free from lies. Free from toxic shit. Free from manipulation. Free from the fear of being seen and used like an object of desire.

I no longer draw blood from my pen —unless is for creativity’s sake. I've stitched the wounds with threads of my own making—black ink, red sparks, no more gore staining the page. I'm drawing again, not to scream, but to sigh. Fantasies that curl like smoke, bodies twisting in white and black, playful and hungry without apology. Erotic whispers I buried for years, now spilling out because why the hell not?

This is my velvet rope, soft as sin, holding me close without choking. Truth without chains, Diary. Just me, finally free to like what I like, to feel what heats my blood.

Tomorrow, another line, another secret. For now, that's enough.

El Jaquio