About

If you see me, I'm usually sketching!

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I could write an entire book about my life and how I got here. Maybe one day I will, just for funsies.

Anyways, hello. I live and breathe animals. 

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'She did not fall apart for no reason; she was driven there slowly, deliberately, until fear lived in her body like a permanent shadow and silence became the only way she knew how to survive. By the time she finally erupted, it was not madness; it was the sound of someone being cornered for too long, someone carrying so much pain she could hardly breathe under it. People love to point out at the moment she became sharp, as if that the beginning, because it is easier than admitting how long she was made to shrink, doubt herself, and live on edge. They can judge the trembling in her voice, the rage, the grief, the parts of her that came out wild and ugly, but they do not get to erase the damage that built those moments. SHe knows she did not always respond well. She knows pain dragged things out of her that she wishes stayed buried. But owning that does not she has to protect the people who helped put her there. It does not mean she has to scrub their cruelty clean and present her as the whole problem just to make the story easier to digest. She can carry regret and still tell the truth. She can admit she came undone and still say plainly that she was pushed until there was almost nothing left of her to save. That is not self-pity. That is the full weight of it. And if that truth unsettles people, it should, because some wounds do not come from nowhere; they are put there, piece by piece, by hands that always hoped she would stay quiet about who they really were.' - Steve De'lano Garcia