As a child, I would run away from the beatings, from the obscene words, and always knew that if I could run far enough, then any leaf, any insect, any bird, any breeze could bring me to my true home. I knew I did not belong among people. Whatever they hated about me was a human thing; the imaginary world has always loved me. I can’t remember when it was otherwise. But I have been emotionally crippled by this. There is nothing romantic about being young and angry, or even about turning that anger into art. I go through the motions of living in society, but never feel a part of it. I decided, very early on, just to accept life unconditionally; I never expected it to do anything special for me, yet I seemed to accomplish far more than I had ever hoped. Most of the time it just happened to me without my ever seeking it. I‘m not the girl that gets all the guys. I’m not the girl that gets told she’s beautiful everyday. I’m not the girl everyone wants to talk to. I’m the girl that says the wrong things, is awkward, and is maybe even a little weird. But I’m okay with that, because that’s me. And I like me. Just because I liked something at one point in time doesn’t mean I’ll always like it, or that I have to go on liking it at all points in time as an unthinking act of loyalty to who I am as a person, based solely on who I was as a person. To be loyal to myself is to allow myself to grow and change, and challenge who I am and what I think. The only thing I am for sure is unsure, and this means I’m growing, and not stagnant or shrinking. I love Art, without art the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable. I love to draw. The only thing I know is that I draw because I need to, and I draw whatever passes through my head without any other consideration. I study Digital Animation. I try not to hold on things or people. I’m used to goodbyes, and I don’t like them. I have a dog, and he’s funny.