I was lost. Suddenly, I had to face this deep, complex, needy, violent, unknown person…myself.

I felt an intense and strangely meaningful pull toward this version of me that had appeared out of nowhere. Unmanageable. Terrifying.

How was I supposed to deal with that?

Therapy is great…I’ve used it at different moments in my life. But because I’ve been through therapy before, I knew it wouldn’t be enough this time. Not for what I was experiencing. I felt like a hundred different people at once… I would have needed a hundred different therapists.

I used to believe my problems were unique.
Then I met the philosophers.
Turns out every existential chaos I’ve lived, someone else had dissected it centuries ago – with more courage, more madness, and usually less Wi-Fi.
Books didn’t just save my life because  they gave it language, structure, meaning.
They turned confusion into clarity, pain into perspective, and heartbreak into… well, literature.
If you’re here, maybe you’re also looking for the words that explain what your heart already knows.
Let’s find them together.