sol.ace_r

Hi there.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

The fact that you’ve opened this page probably means you’ve chosen to step, gently, into my story of the isolated island.

That makes me happy—though, to be honest, it feels a little nerve-wracking too.

Because what I’m sharing here is the deepest and most private part of me,

landscapes I once felt too afraid to show the world.

This story begins on an island you won’t find on any map.

A place left behind after a storm had swept everything away.

But in truth, that island was my own heart—

a place where the noise of the world couldn’t reach,

where I had no choice but to face only myself.

It was a place filled with despair, with fear,

and with the remains of what I had lost.

I wandered there for a long time.

I lost my way.

I held back my screams, afraid of the shadows I cast.

Some days, I wanted to give up before a wall too high to climb.

Other days, the cold of loneliness made me think I might freeze.

And yet, the island showed me small miracles.

I learned how to breathe again in barren soil.

I found new meaning in strange shapes.

I tended that land with my own hands.

I laid to rest the things that had died there,

and, little by little, I discovered how to care for my own wounds.

Time passed, layer upon layer, over the scars inside me,

and the garden in my heart began to change—

bright and alive in ways I never imagined.

So this is not just a story of surviving on an isolated island.

It is the journey of someone who lost themselves,

who went deep into their own heart,

faced their pain, cared for it, grew through it,

and finally found the courage to return to the world.

No one can stay on their island forever.

I couldn’t either.

Now I’m preparing to leave—

setting out in a small boat I built with my own hands,

sailing slowly toward a new world.

Maybe you, too, are staying on your own island.

Or maybe you’ve already left, sailing across your sea.

Whatever your island looks like, whatever your sea may hold,

I hope this story offers you a little comfort.

I hope it can spark the flame of hope within you again.

Remember: you have your own island,

your own story,

and the strength to build your own boat and move forward.

So I invite you into my story of the isolated island.

I hope this journey will stay with you, even as a small echo.

With sincerity,

in the hope that my story may connect with yours.