overstimulate me

there was a point last summer where i couldn’t leave a dark basement bedroom in my childhood home for longer than a few minutes without being completely overstimulated by anything at all- i’d resort back down the stairs immediately, sick to my stomach, to hide. this is called ptsd. my system shut down. it was time for rest, reset, and eventually rebirth.

—

my previous work was quite concise, symmetrical to the point of extreme beauty and precision to the outside eye- often masking for rigidity and a sense of instability and dysfunction on the inside.

observing my past work has been enlightening after some time away. it’s not that i’m not proud of my past work- i am. it led me to where i am now. and now, i want to be stimulated by my work. i love things, homes that are filled with the right kind of chaos and items of significance. i crave for things to be full, unpredictable, conversational. homes that are not wiped stale. i love to feel. i love to see, i want my mind to be and feel completely ignited by texture, tone, softness, warmth, and i want to mix that with some brutalism, metals, and weirdness.

i want to be me.