When I was 19 and traveling I was very open with my friends at the time that I didnāt really do emotional openness that well. I could support other peoples emotions but my own made me deeply, viscerally uncomfortable. Expressing them with anyone horrified me. But I would, albeit sometimes reluctantly, share pieces of writing I was working on. We did a workshop to do a 48 hour film challenge and I made something so stupidly recklessly emotionally true to me. I went on my own to London and took a course to write and record my own music and when we joined back up again I showed it. And then entire time I was prickly about being open with people and pushed back against it. I remember one of the leaders of that group saying to me in our last week something to the effect of āYou try really hard to keep your distance and make people thing you donāt care but then you share these pieces of art that you make and I think itās your way of letting yourself be knownā
Itās been almost 5 years since that. But I think about it a lot. I think maybe the reason that I want to create so badly is because with everything I make I am on some level begging for someone to know me.













