As I journey through this strange and unpredictable life, I navigate through a constant war between my rational mind and my emotions. I am continuously reminded that feelings are not facts, but sometimes it becomes impossible to simply watch those feelings drift by. I was lucky to be born into a fortunate and privileged life. I’ve experienced more love and support from my family than any other family I’ve witnessed. Although we are strong, this strength stems from our ability to overcome strenuous genetic shortcomings. Members of my family have been plagued with alcoholism, addiction, eating disorders, and severe mental health disabilities that make it difficult for us to live normal lives. Because the coping mechanisms that have come most easily to me do more harm than good, I have returned to the first outlet I ever used to express my emotions when I was a child: the medium of visual storytelling. Instead of trapping myself in a world of my own design, a world created to distract myself from the damaging and dangerous thoughts from which I instinctively hide, I process my emotions into an image that frees me from the prison of my mind. As trite as it may sound, I am not ashamed to say that art is as essential to my survival as air and water.

Even if no one ever knows what it’s truly like to be me, all I’ve ever wanted is an opportunity to be understood. My artwork gives its audience a brief glimpse into how I perceive the world using detailed, thought-provoking graphics and tantalizing color to tell stories that are meaningful to me, even if they may be confusing or shocking to the viewer. The message hidden beneath my work it is that it is okay to be honest, to ask for help, and to be yourself no matter what.