Writer
Musician
A bundle of thread that holds together the sweater to keep you warm.
The tisket to my tasket.
Just, ear to ear: I smile.
So much healing.
So much happiness.
Where should I begin?
From filmmaking to music:
I have my hands in a piece of it all. I honestly don't know who the fck I am anymore and some days, I'll be honest. That scares me.
I used to hide.
To cower behind the beliefs of those FUCKING LOSERS who tried to be stall upon me their shitty maggot eating flesh ways. The kind of living that you don't even know you're eating dead flesh until you stop sinking your teeth into the fake homely meals your mother swore she stood over a hot stove and cooked all day on Sunday.
"Bitch, please." 🙄
This is goddamn foolery, at it's best.
I'm just really proud of myself, and anyone who is working through some of the hardest shit they have never done in their entire life, then you should be too.
And for those that aren't..For the ones who are still surfing the edge, the day dreamers and the shit smellers, well.
Again
And again.
And again.
That's how long it took me.
And here I still am.
Again.
And again.
Still exercising no.
Still preserving my yes.
Because the amount of love and time that I am pouring into myself is more than anything anyone could ever offer.
I've been wondering what comes after this? The levels of happiness and love that succeed more than your wildest dreams? I'm in no way shape or form am some high-time millionare, but I pretty much feel everyday like I've won a million bucks. Yes, I have my ups and downs but for the most part-in my eyes-I won.
Won.
For the little girl in me who wants this so much, for the small things that add up into a million, for the crushed dreams and the ill reserved no's, this is for little me.
Dreaming the big dream, finally on a big screen.
--Falling in love with film
Falling in love with me 🩷❤️🩷❤️