I cannot think of anyone who enjoys writing about themselves. What makes them different or the same. but when i think of my desire to write, my motivation to do so — I have to align with the loudest part.

In my early twenties I was diagnosed with epilepsy—

an unprecedented filing that was not hereditary, not expected, and in the realm of conclusions, there was not one to be had.

similar to the parallels of life— much was to remain unknown; the causes, the trajectory, the lasting impacts, livelihood, and whys.

for a woman in her twenties, that is a heavy sentiment to hear, an even heavier burden to bear.

I had not conceived the idea that grief also looked like mourning yourself.

the inside of ones inner workings, the idea of safety became very different, but so did the world around me; so did the way I loved, I maneuvered, healed and absorbed pain, understood, and transformed.

Under the Stars Is a project capturing every piece of who I am,

with the notion of if we are not the authors to our stories, emphasizing the value of our poetically individualized experiences that fuel something bigger; if we do not create

—however that looks—

in whatever expression, technique or style, if we do not cultivate that,

who will?