Not pretty. Not apologetic. Just real.
This is for you. Your survival, smeared in pigment. For the ones who feel too much and pretend too little.
These aren’t for comfort. They're not decorations. They’re confrontations. These canvases don’t wait to be admired, they demand to be felt.
Step into the darkness, where every canvas breathes what we never say out loud.
The Smile You Gave Them Cost Me Everything
It wasn’t love. It was a transaction.
Sometimes I Forget I’m Still Here
The quiet doesn’t comfort. It dissolves.
I Sat With the Silence Until It Knew My Name
Stillness sharp enough to bleed.
Familiar Stranger
You know them. You wish you didn’t.
Some stories don’t end. I'm the reminder.
— The Therapy Artist