an ODE TO the ALMOST

@MADEBYDLFCE X @PICCSBYHIM

a creative collaboration; defining the transition a modern day woman makes throughout rough seasons, anointed by God and his grace.

Inspired by my life experiences, the Holy Bible, and avant-garde mod whimsy. the vibe is high-fashion industrial romanticism — a magnetic blend of raw, unyielding survival and elevated, poetic grace. I carry the regal presence of a Scorpio Rising who has walked through the fire, transforming the rough edges, concrete cityscapes, and thorns of my past into a sacred, golden armor.

Instead of striving for a sanitized or untouchable perfection, my energy lives in the contrast between vulnerability and sovereignty: soft yet sharp, deeply soulful, and unapologetically self-possessed. I am a wildflower blooming from the wilderness;

— a woman who doesn't mourn the fires she's endured, but instead wears the ashes like bespoke luxury while stepping fully into her own divine refining.

THE FLOWER THAT GREW FROM CONCRETE

VOL. 001

💐 𝗔𝗻 𝗢𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗠𝘆 𝗔𝗹𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁:

To the girl who existed before I knew what becoming meant—
before the world asked me to harden, before I learned that growing could hurt.

I look for her sometimes.
Not to become her again,

but to remember what she carried into the woman I am becoming.

She was curious. She was colorful. She was strange in all the ways that made her beautiful.

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗿.

𝗜𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆.

I don't mourn the woman she never got to be. I honor the girl who made her possible.

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦; 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞."

𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝟑𝟓:𝟏

INSPIRED BY THE GIRL OF WHIMSICAL NATURE. MY SIGNATURE PALETTE, MY PISCES MOON AND DEEP SEA OF EVER SO CHANGING EMOTIONS. MY EDGINESS, MY EMPATHIC NATURE, THE GIRL WHO WONT EVER DIE BUT WON’T EXIST AS THE FACE OF THE MATURE MOTHERSHIP.

THE WILD ROSE IN THE WILDERNESS

VOL. 002

🥀 𝗮𝗻 𝗼𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝗼 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘆:

The rough edges,

the exposed places,

the thorns I grew along the way.

I am not here to pretend every version of me was admirable.

I am here to acknowledge that she existed, that she endured,

and that she, too, belongs to the woman I am becoming.

Not every flower grows in a garden.

Some learn to bloom in the wilderness.

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝.”

— 𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝟒𝟑:𝟐

DEDICATED TO THE PARTS OF ME THAT HAVE DIED. THE PART THAT BECAME DEAD WEIGHT, ALCHEMIZED INTO ASHES — ONLY VISIBLE WHEN THE DUST FINALLY SETTLES. THE PARTS OF ME THAT EMBRACE TOXIC LOVE AFFAIRS AND CONDITIONAL CARE. THE PARTS OF ME THAT ARE LESS THAN FAVORABLE, BUT ALL THE MORE RELEVANT TO THE JOURNEY. THE UNFORGETTABLE NATURE OF BEING.