Ever since my teenage years, I've been immersed in the world of music. Back then, I was driven by a relentless pursuit of success and recognition, seeking external validation to affirm my worth. I convinced myself that reaching the next milestone or earning another accolade would somehow prove my deservingness of happiness.

Ever read The Velvet Rage? Anyways, as I recently turned 30, I know deep down that I have been gradually unlearning these damaging beliefs over the past several years.

When was the moment I knew I wanted to make music?

Surprisingly, the answer came to me more recently than I had anticipated. I could easily say that I knew it from the moment I opened my mouth at the age of 8 and started to sing. However, the genuine realization struck me when I returned home to my parents' house amidst the peak of the pandemic.

During those uncertain times, I reconnected with my voice and my keyboard in a way I had never experienced before. It was during this period that I wrote a song called "Twenties", which transformed my perception of myself and my career. It was no longer a mere desire to make music; it became a need within me. Creating music allowed me to explore my pain, reflect on my upbringing, decipher the intricacies of my relationships and grow into a kinder human being.

In my parents' attic, I felt like a child again, rediscovering the pure joys of life without the weight of financial obligations and survival. It was a time of queer liberation, where I could freely embrace my emotions, channel them into artistic expressions and truly live. But as the demands of reality knocked at my door, I faced the challenge of maintaining that spirit out in the real world.

Nevertheless, today I stand with newfound clarity and an overwhelming sense of excitement. I am eager to share the musical reflections that emerged from the depths of my parents' attic, encapsulated in an album I aptly titled The Garden. As a younger version of myself, I used to proclaim, "Dad, I'm going to sell out the Garden." Although I haven't achieved all the things I once envisioned, I am here, and I am content. And unexpectedly, I've come to realize that this, in itself, is the greatest triumph - the victory I never knew was a victory.

So, let me ask you: Are you okay? Are you truly present in this moment? If not, please know that I'm thinking of you. And in any way possible, I would love to be your friend and remind you that you possess immense goodness within you. The world needs you, and so do I.