I have to realize my power as an artist, and the power in referring to myself as such. I am far too consumed with worry about being drowned out by the cacophony of sounds that are being produced; but what does it matter how many noises are being made when my viola sounds like no other? my rhythm is like no other. my words feel like none other. the warmth I emit and the timbre of my voice can’t be duplicated. so I can’t be afraid of me if I wish to be embraced as just that. but before I can be embraced, I have to know that with every untuned string in my body and fiber of my being, I don’t need that embrace. I am honest, interesting, and I practice humility; and I relay all of that in my own creative ways. and that alone is enough. I am enough. I am an artist and I am realizing I am so fucking powerful.

I speak my mind and I see no need to filter, but just because I have that stance doesn’t mean my words aren’t first double dipped in love, drizzled in understanding, sprinkled with consideration, and inspected for compassion before they fall upon your ears. if I’m aware of anything, I am aware of what I say. if you can believe in anything, you can believe in what I say.