Why I wrote The Pattern Was Never Love I spent years inside a labyrinth that looked like a relationship. Nice furniture. Good lighting in certain corners. Just enough tenderness to make you think you were almost at the center of something beautiful, when actually you were three corridors deep into a loop that always brought you back to the same wall. I didn’t know it was a labyrinth while I was in it. Nobody does. That’s the design. My body knew before I did. My bones were drawing the map while my mind was still calling it home. My blood was keeping records while my heart was still filing the…

How I became the frequency I’d been searching for in everyone else I wrote this book because I died. Not the kind of dying where you post about it later with a butterfly emoji and call it “transformation.” The kind where your cells forget their job description. Where your lungs need a performance review just to keep showing up. Where you lie on the floor and your body genuinely doesn’t know if it’s an ending or a beginning. Turns out, it was both. My blood knew before my brain caught up. My bones were already rearranging themselves around a new center of gravity. My flesh was composting the old me…