“I understood myself only after I destroyed myself. And only in the process of fixing myself, did I know who I really was.”

― Sade Andria Zabala

there's a reason why, for 15 years, i didn't share my poetry. it was a practice of control, intimacy, expression... that was intended for just me and sometimes one other person.

art is so cruel sometimes. as is creativity. why can we only write about what hurts the most? why do i have to be in deep existential angst to be able to qualify myself a poet and my work poetry? maybe i'm not a poet. maybe i'm not even an artist. maybe i'm just full of shit.

whatever is my truth, i've made a promise and a commitment that i have to honor. like much of my journey on this human experience as someone with a fearful avoidant attachment style, the more i dishonor that promise, the further i want to run and hide. the more pressure i put on myself, the more i destroy myself.

until i found a way to fix myself. so, here it is: i'm not a poet anymore, or an artist.

i'm a postcard.

i'm simply a snapshot of a human experience or emotional expression.

i'm not as deep as i made out to be. or if i am as deep as i made out to be, i'm not obliged to share those depths.

so maybe you'll get poems, but mostly you'll get postcards. created by me. using my words and my hands and the tools in my arsenal. maybe you'll get an artist, but mostly you'll just get me.

shout out to cubantoast. for keeping me accountable and expressing support without disapproval.

i'm working on something. it's pretty cool. be done soon.