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"Some hearts don't break-they burn." Seventeen-year-old Violet Marlowe only wanted to get home before the streetlights buzzed on. But after a shouting match with her mother, she finds herself wandering the cracked sidewalks near the park, a grocery bag swinging in her hand. That's where she meets Ash-a boy with ink-black hair, chipped black nail polish, and a silver lighter that dances between his fingers like magic. Ash doesn't smile. But he talks in poems. He reads books with bent spines and writes things he never shows anyone. He knows the music that makes your bones ache. And something about the way he watches Violet, like she's the only part of the world that makes sense pulls her closer night after night. But Ash has his own secrets. The kind that crackle under the skin. The kind that could disappear like smoke if you touch them too hard. This is a story about two broken kids. One who's trying to escape a house that doesn't feel like home. And one who might not have a home left at all. Love doesn't save you. But sometimes, it sees you.

" Welcome to Book 4 of an unfiltered, brutally honest, and slightly unhinged self-analysis. While this is the next installment after Note from a Professional Overthinker, Brain vs. Me: A Sequel No One Asked For, and The Unedited Draft of 20s, you can read it as a standalone. Every chapter comes with a hard, uncomfortable fact-because pretending doesn't change reality. You might laugh. You might relate. You might even rethink a few things. An Autopsy of My Mind: Peeling Back the Layers of Who I Am (Even the Ones I Don't Want to See)" is not a self-help book, nor is it a comforting guide to self-discovery. It is a cold, calculated, and sometimes painfully honest dissection of a mind that refuses to stay quiet. This is not about surface-level realizations. This is about digging deeper, past the versions of ourselves we present to the world, past the excuses, the contradictions, and the lies we tell ourselves to sleep better at night. This book is for the overthinkers, the analyzers, the ones who break themselves down before the world even gets a chance to. It is not here to comfort-it is here to confront. To take a scalpel to the thoughts we avoid, to rip open the patterns we pretend don't exist, and to expose the truths we secretly already know but refuse to say out loud. Some pages will feel like a mirror you don't want to look into. Some will make you laugh in that "oh no, that's uncomfortably accurate" kind of way. Others will just sit there, waiting for you to admit that they were right all along. If you're ready to stop running from your own mind, welcome. But be warned: this book is not for the faint of heart.