this is the part where i’m supposed to say things like:
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these are the things that new artists are supposed to do.
now that that’s out of the way, there’s something you should know:
there’s a backstory to all of this. and it’s too long to tell in one sitting. it’s too long to tell in one lifetime. but i’m going to do my best. i’m going to tell it in pieces and it’ll be living here, in this journal.
i went away for a while - not to prison or anything - but away, away. i needed to get away and that’s all i knew. i did not feel at home in my life so i went to go try out another one. and another one. and another.
i flew back and forth from L.A. (my permanent residence) several times over the course of about 18 months. i picked up emotional souvenirs on my trips and returned with them in my carry-on. i brought these bottled up emotions back home and they began to grow like extraterrestrial creatures in my closet. some cuddly and cute, others misshapen and mangy. to each one i became attached in a different way.
i went away for a while.
it was the dumbest, smartest thing i’ve ever done.
i’ll tell you more about it soon…