“...here lie the journals of a wilted rose.”
…you’ve made it here, at last.
Gathered here
are the wandering souls—
those who knew
and stayed anyway.
Here we speak boldly
of what followed us home—
the words we swallowed,
the truths we delayed.
Here we ask
for no neat endings,
only the courage to sit
with our severed chains.
And if you find
yourself in these pages,
let what you buried
speak its name.
Like a wilted rose,
there’s beauty in your injury.
The Author
Hi, my name is Alexa.
Born and raised as an only child in the big city of Toronto, Ontario, I have been seemingly forever seeking the quaint country life.
Between my fiancé and me, we (regretfully) have four cats named Bleu, Oscar, Ryder, and Oliver. I’ve heard ALL of the Alexa jokes (don’t try me), possess a slightly dark yet raunchy sense of humour that my mom hates, and I voluntarily make myself depressed to fuel inspo (which I’m pretty sure is the prerequisite for being a writer).
On my Netflix-filled evenings, you can catch me shamelessly downing carbs while enjoying reality TV, 90s sitcoms, or occasionally ugly-crying to rom-coms. Some might also say I enjoy a glass of wine or seven…