I’m Cass — author, designer, grief grenadier, and the smartass broad who wrote "HOLY SH*T, THEY’RE GONE" because the world wouldn’t shut up with its sugar-coated condolences. When my fiancé died suddenly, I didn’t get peace. I got rage, silence, and a front-row seat to everyone else's discomfort. So I did what any unhinged writer with nothing left to lose would do — I told the truth, loudly.

I write for the broken-but-breathing. The ones who’ve screamed into their steering wheels, flipped off the sky, and kept going anyway. If you’ve ever been wrecked by grief and sick of pretending you’re "healing nicely" — welcome home.

Buy me a beer if you’re done with the bullshit and riding shotgun in this emotional demolition derby. Your support keeps this raw, real, whiskey-soaked grief empire burning strong.

No filters. No apologies. Just brutal truth, dark gallows humor, and one hell of a lot of fight.