I am not your soft-spoken survivor.
I am not your cautionary tale.
I am the one who lived anyway.
My name is Yael Olalde-Garcia, and this is my archive.
I write because I refuse to disappear.
Because if I don’t document the fire, the silence wins.
I was raised in contradiction:
by mothers who stayed,
by churches that tried to fix me,
by love that sometimes looked like survival.
I’ve walked through every dark street and still made it home to write.
My scars don’t need explanation — my work will speak for them.
I don’t want your pity.
I don’t want your prayers.
I want your eyes.
Everything you read here is true.
Unedited. Unapologetic. Unafraid.
This is not a phase. This is not a spiral.
This is the record.
Welcome to my legacy.
If you came looking for God, you won’t find him here.
But you will find me.