Whenever I write, it is for the sole purpose of purging
myself of some unwanted emotion, a heavy guilt, an
insufferable anger, a horrible loneliness. When I am finished, I close
my eyes and make myself believe that I have
paid my dues, that I am absolved, that I have left it all behind me.
Some dues may never be paid.
Some crimes may never be absolved.
Some things should never be forgotten.
These are the things that make me who I am, interesting
to you or not. It is a sad truth that we are molded far more
strongly by our mishaps than by our successes. Take hold of your pain,
your anger, your fears, and make them your
armor.
This is my story…and my catharsis.
| Absolution |
| Wings |
| Who Can Tell Me? |
| Look, Ma, No Hands |
| Happily Ever After |
| The Color of Her Eyes |
| Muse |
| Child of the Storm |
| Moonlight Walking |
| Eclipse of the Senses |
| To Carry Me Home |
| Can You Feel Me? |
| Dreams |
| Untitled |
| Home |
| Annette |
| Celebration |
| Dancing in the Dark |
| Folding the Perfect Paper Flower |
| Insubstantiality |
| Dreaming Alone |
| Warmth |
| Beauty |