This novel was born out of desperation. A way to escape. A place to forget the truth—or pretend it never mattered. But does it?
I exist somewhere in the world where everything in my life is falling apart. Somewhere the abyss watches me with greedy eyes, mouth open, waiting to swallow me whole when the final thread snaps.
So instead of waiting, I pursued an interest. Something to lull me into that deep slumber humanity has feared since its creation. A way not to fall apart on my own. A way to numb the pain of awareness. Maybe it's better to enjoy the fall than to ruin myself resisting it.
I write with no expectations, no hope, and no intention—only the desire to sleep inside madness for a little while.
You might notice that parts of this novel touch on certain philosophies: existentialism, survival of the fittest, nihilism. Not intensely, but they linger in the background.
I was not someone particularly fond of philosophy. I was simply forced to study it at university. And yet, I ask questions that can't be answered. I see life differently from others. And I fall apart—by my own hands. They echo through my veins like a forgotten hymn—soft, sorrowful, and impossible to be silenced.
I hope you enjoy escaping as much as I do.
Let this novel carry you where reality cannot follow— into the ache, the dream, the rebellion, the madness that feels like home.
If you find yourself in these words, even just a flicker, then maybe the fall was worth it. And maybe, just maybe, we're not alone in the way we break.