Introduction

This blog is dedicated to my parents, who have always encouraged and fostered the development of my writing as well as myself as an individual.

Writing has always been a catharsis for me. It is the only way I ever knew how to express myself, though I am learning new ways now after twenty-one years of living, and so it has seen my total progression. I started writing young, writing fanatical short stories about myth and otherworldly creations that I would spend hours alone mulling over again and again. I started writing poetry in high school in order to cope with my sadness and emotional pain, and it too has seen me course through the mountainous cliffs and subsequent plummets back down to earth as well as my journeys to walkthrough flower fields and along empty roads. Writing has consistently served me in some way or another. My fascination with horror and the bizarre too developed at a young age. It was comforting to me I think, to watch and read about the paranormal and the strange when I too felt strange and unusual locked inside my delusions and depression. Writing has been twofold: it has both encouraged and rectified my pain though it has expressed it without fault regardless of the intentions. For that, I am thankful, more than anything. So I come now to you not so much to display all the past years of my writings but to display what I am creating now. I am at a critical point in my life, teetering on the edge between youthful ignorance and mature acceptance as our nation and world do the same. I hope my writing can serve as an escape for you as much as it will serve as a magnifying lens into my inner monologues. Horror is the truest form of art in its rawness and its complete refusal to paint over the bloodied of humanity. I hope, if nothing else, that my writing will stay with you after you leave it and move onwards in life. If nothing else, I hope you remember me.