About

I’ve been a poet since I became a person although it’s been a slow journey getting better. My brothers lost battle with depression is a major topic of my writing because it’s a major part of my life. Just like he was. I don’t want to say it defined me, but it did.

Five dogs and a daughter half the country away for financial reasons. I needed a village and people just weren’t doing it for me so I made my own. People typically don’t stick around for more than a few chapters of my story. It’s hard to know if the fault lies in myself but most say it’s my fault.

My life is unbelievably unbelievable and most assume my stories are tall tales stemmed from boredom although I’m never bored.

I got a degree In psychology and helping people has always been my passion but the real reason I studied that topic was to understand myself and help my brother understand himself. I guess I was a little to late.

Since my brothers death I’ve made it my mission to use his life to save someone else’s to make him not to have died in veign yet I can’t even save myself.

I’ve died 14 times intentionally now and that topic is also visited often. Death is my favorite place. I just can’t seem to stay there long enough.

I am pro dr assisted suicide. I have borderline personality disorder and I’m a toxic echoist. I thrive off narcissistic abuse and need someone to give me a reason to hate myself instead of just accepting that I do.

I didn’t know my brothers struggle with addiction until I was 31 and started trying to convince someone else that their lives mattered. Obviously he didn’t think mine did and I didn’t end up helping him stay sober but he’s still alive so there is still time.

I see dead people. Literally. I’ve seen more and more of the other side every time I visit it and others tend to pick up my talent when I’m around. It’s why some of my friends are my friends actually and I’m okay with that.