intro

Since high school, I can remember the relief I felt in discovering that writing could become my outlet for all emotions that became too overwhelming. They were juvenile writings at first - amateur and choppy sentences written in oozing red pen. But when I reached college, I began to toy with the idea of metaphors and poetry, and I realized the infinite amount of words that could encompass my passion, suffering, and loss. I found the impact my writing had when I began to share some of my work on social media. Others resonated with my thoughts and encouraged more. So I began my work of revising them to showcase.

Like any artist, I can become quite critical of the work that flows from me. I am always writing and revising my work to bring the best version forward, anxious that it is never epitomizing my truth. But I have found that most of this anxiety stems from the fear of others walking around inside of my head, reading what I’ve written, reading me. But I find there is nothing quite as beautiful as a writer ripping themselves apart for the sake of art.