The Story

Humble beginnings, you might say—from an outside view. But the truth? It’s far from that. Some might say I’m joyful, caring, and empathetic. Others might say I’m ignorant, arrogant, stubborn, and pessimistic. But what’s true, and what’s just point of view? The truth is: I’m all of those things—told by people walking different paths in life. I carry many flaws, all mixed in a bag of trauma, right next to my doubts—and I’ve been carrying that baggage my whole life.

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As a kid, through events that transpired, I learned it was safer to bottle up emotions. To hide from the truth. To build a wall and lock myself inside. But what happens when that room reaches max capacity, and you keep shoving more in? The walls begin to crack. The pressure builds until it’s too much. You keep patching those cracks with band-aids, pretending it’s fine. But over time, those walls will break. Everything comes pouring out. You spiral. You lose control. You feel a whirlwind of emotions you haven’t felt in years—maybe ever. It destroys you. Mentally, and even physically. Your body becomes stressed—tight, like a rubber band stretched to its limit. You’re outside your comfort zone. So how do you handle the next step?

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If any of this sounds familiar to you, it’s exactly what happened to me. I’m not proud of what I did that night. I wrote a letter—a final goodbye. I still remember the weight of the cold steel in my hand. Life moved in slow motion when I held it to my head. I don’t know if it was a miracle or the grace of God that I’m still here today... but I still think about that moment. I question what happened. Did I have a guardian angel? Why am I still here?

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When that wall came down—after the failed attempt—you’d think I would’ve learned my lesson. I didn’t. I buried my emotions again. I rebuilt. I put the mask back on. I still couldn’t bring myself to open up. It didn’t feel safe. I didn’t want the world to see me differently. I didn’t want anyone to know that I was broken. So, I did what a lot of high schoolers do—I smoked, I drank, I surrounded myself with toxic influences just to see the world from a different angle. Everyone else just wanted to have a good time. Me? I just wanted to forget. To wake up and not feel the way I did.

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Since I was a kid, I was fascinated with storytelling—especially dark, twisted horror. I was terrified of those movies, even scared of my own writing sometimes... but I kept writing anyway. Why? Because I thought if I could write it—if I could name it, speak about it—it wouldn’t scare me anymore. The boogeyman couldn’t hurt me if I saw him coming. But what if I wrote about how I felt?

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Poetry came to me like an old friend. I started writing and writing, letting it pour out of me. And then one day, a friend of mine showed me how he made music. That’s when it all clicked. I got obsessed. I recorded vocals on the Voice Memos app on my phone. I played with GarageBand. I found free non-profit beats on YouTube because, let’s be honest, mine were terrible. That’s where it all started. I had finally found an outlet—a way to express myself, tell my story, and maybe, just maybe, let go of all the pain I’d been carrying.

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Of course, that didn’t come without judgment. People started seeing me differently. Some distanced themselves. Some made fun of me. What they didn’t realize is this: I wasn’t doing it for them. This was for me. And that’s okay. I learned to shuffle through the noise. I took off the mask they had grown comfortable seeing. I wasn’t the person they expected me to be anymore. And that’s when you find out who’s really there for you—and who never was. Back then, I might’ve been bitter. But now? It doesn’t matter. I don’t hold anything against them. I understand.

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To date, I’ve released three albums: Outcasts, Therapy, and Stranded. Each one focused on a different part of my life. I’m not the greatest artist out there—and I never aimed to be. All I ever wanted was to impact even just one person. To help someone feel like they aren’t alone in this world. To not be afraid of what life throws their way.

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It’s been nearly three years since my last album. And you might ask, where’s the next one? The truth is... I don’t have anything to show right now. These last few years have been some of the hardest I’ve ever lived through. I’m not the same person I was in 2018. I’m not the same man I was in 2022. I reached a point where I couldn’t hold on anymore. I needed to let go. Maybe I’ll find the time to make a fourth project. Maybe I’ll seek redemption through new music, as one chapter closes and a new one begins.

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But for now, I’m just sharing a message. Telling you who I was—and who I am now. I created this brand so that you don’t have to feel stranded. So that you know: You Are Not Alone. Thank you for being here. I hope you share your story too.