I am a Woman.

A woman with responsibilities and lives that matter to me.

A woman who learned early how easily the world mistakes freedom and feeling and aliveness for danger.

Who was taught that stability is virtue, that sexuality is somehow an expression of pain or insecurity (aka daddy issues), and that life must be won instead of lived fully and truly.

And if I'm honest, I've never really gone along with it (In fact, I have a mischievous smile on my face as I write this). Anyone who knows me might laugh at the fact that I feel like I am holding anything back.

But the truth is, I am. Those knocks against me had an impact. I got tired of bracing myself for the lash back. I grew weary. And that weariness quieted me.

But somewhere in the middle of 2025 I found myself sobbing on a bathroom floor over poetry. Over the stark realization that all of the poetry had left me. My life had been sucked dry of real emotion — the kind expressed through art and song and conversations that reach into the depth of your soul and make you see who you are in this vast place.

And it's a combination of everything. Social media. The place I live. The people in my life. The responsibilities I took on that grew more and more consequential to larger and larger amounts of people. What I do impacts more than me.

But all that is in me is too full of life to remain unsaid. It has to become something. Something expressed to other people who just maybe, see the world in a similar way.

So here I am. Writing anonymously. Not to hide - but to tell the truth.

I'm not trying to build a platform or earn more money or get a book deal. I'm here to reclaim my voice - the real one. To throw it out onto paper, even if it's a virtual sheet, and say to the collective energy, "Hear me speak. Set me free. Do not mind my rambling. I am feeling. And isn't that a beautiful thing?"

Written under the name E. Rowan

A quick note: This site contains personal writing that may explore mature themes, including sexuality. Please read with care.