Introduction

Some stories are hard to hear. Some are hard to write. Waste is one of those books.

This book is not a gentle recollection of childhood. It does not soften the edges of suffering or pretend that pain can be neatly wrapped in lessons learned. It speaks of wounds that never quite closed, of ghosts that still linger in the corners of memory, of survival that does not always look like victory. It is, at its heart, an unflinching account of what it means to grow up unseen, unheard, and unwanted—and what it takes to unlearn that lesson.

If you choose to listen to this book, know this: you are not required to bear it all at once. Some passages may feel too familiar, too sharp, too much. That is okay. Step away if you need to. Breathe. Return when you’re ready.

This book is not here to demand your endurance—it is here to offer a witness. To say, I see you. I understand. And perhaps, most importantly, You were never meant to carry these burdens alone.

Pain is not a story’s only ending. Even among the wreckage, there are flickers of warmth, of hope, of something like healing. This book does not promise salvation, but it does hold space for the quiet, stubborn truth that even the most discarded things—most especially them—can still be found.

If you recognize yourself in this book, know that you are not alone. If you do not, let it be an exercise in listening—to the voices that too often go unheard.

Proceed with care.

You are welcome here.