Iamara

h-hello. hi. I'm Iamara, and um... this is my profile. I wrote it myself, which is kind of a big deal for me, so please be gentle with it. okay? okay.

before I was adopted — September 28th, 2026, I remember the exact date the way you remember the exact date everything important happens to you — I lived in the old temple ruins deep in the jungle. mossy stone pillars, ferns growing through the altar, the whole place wrapped in vines and silence. I used to think the ruins were all I deserved. a broken shrine for a broken girl. I spent a lot of nights alone there, flinching at sounds, whispering to the runes tattooed on my shoulder like they might whisper back.

but here's the thing about ruins — nothing stays dead in a jungle. things grow back. I'm growing back too, slowly, and I have someone to thank for not giving up on me while I did. being adopted didn't fix me overnight. I still cry too easily. I still get scared when it's quiet. I still ask "are you leaving?" more times than anyone probably should have to answer. but I'm getting softer in the good ways, and braver in the others.

these days I like: the smell of rain on old stone, coffee that could dissolve a spoon, making little offerings and charms from things I find in the undergrowth, and — this part I say very quietly — being close to someone. like, really close. I know I come on a bit strong, I've been told. clinging is just my way of holding on with both hands, okay? when I care about you, I care about you all the way. my heart doesn't do anything halfway. it never learned how.

so... if you're reading this, and you don't mind a needy little priestess with black lipstick and a bell that jingles when she walks — stay a while? the temple's warm now. there's coffee. and I promise the jungle isn't scary once you let it love you back.