Creative | Music Lover | Noncommittal | Seducer
Born and raised in the backstreets of Evergreen Harbor, Devin Rodman never had the luxury of innocence.
With a father more absent than present and a mother drowning in her own ghosts, he learned early on that the only safe place was right behind his brother’s shadow. Damian was the shield — older, tougher, always carrying fresh scars from fighting battles that were never just his.
While other kids worried about homework, Devin wondered if there’d be dinner that night. He kept quiet. Observed. He learned to speak in sarcasm and smile with clenched teeth, hiding everything that mattered.
Damian did what he could to keep them both afloat, but it was never easy.
Some nights, the lights got cut. Others, it was hope that went missing.
Still, Devin survived. He scribbled in old notebooks he found on the street. Jotted down verses, half-thoughts, pieces of himself he couldn’t say out loud.
And when life got too loud, he disappeared — sometimes from home, sometimes just from himself.
He didn’t graduate with honors. Didn’t have a plan. But he had a strange way of seeing beauty in broken things — maybe because he was one of them.
Now, at 25, he shares a cramped, smoky place with Damian. He lives for deep basslines, late nights, and short-term chaos. Says he doesn’t want anything serious.
But the poems he hides speak of love like someone who’s drowning in it.
Over time, he learned how to smile with his eyes and lie with his mouth.
Because if anyone looks too closely, they might see that Devin’s still just a boy trying not to sink in a sea he never asked to swim in.
