Most authors talk about who they are and what they write. Few talk about who they write for.

So these lines are for you and about you, dear reader!

I write for the quiet rebels. 

We fit well into most systems, or at least appear to. We have the degrees and the designations to show for it.

But there’s a desperate longing in our souls for something more beautiful, something more meaningful, something that reminds us how sacred and ephemeral our lives are, far too fleeting to be squandered without intention, without purpose.

We’re not the loud ones. We’re not the ones with hair dyed pink or tattoos curling around our biceps and up our necks or wisps of weed smoke drifting past our lips like lost slivers of our souls. 

But we’ve imagined ourselves in those garbs, maybe even tried them on briefly. We often wished we had the bravado to express our angst so unabashedly, even secretly admired those who did. 

Yet, something always held us back. Kept us from going too far. Something that knew these expressions, loud and defiant, wouldn’t have soothed our restless souls.

Something that rose quietly but determinedly from a secret place deep within us, leaned over and whispered with great compassion, with unflinching sovereignty,

“Turning inwards is your true act of rebellion.”

Our souls are intimate with darkness and despair, having spent several long nights searching for the truth.

Our hearts emerge full of understanding and compassion, for our own rebellions and those of others.

Our minds turn towards stillness, bearing witness to the madness and beauty that coexist in this world and in ourselves.

We seek stories that wrap themselves snug around our souls.

We turn to stories that make us think and feel deeply.

Above all, we want our stories to reassure us that this world, this life, despite its merciless vagaries, is still full of beauty and magic.

If this is you, then know that you're the one I write for.