my story

a r t i s t &  p h o t o g r a p h e r
my parents only wanted two children.
my sister was born, and then another.
for whatever reason, that baby didn’t make it.
that baby never got to run outside,
to hear music, to laugh
attend school and build relationships.
have its heart broken or know success
but that baby’s death gave me life.
there have been days, weeks
where I’ve been unsure of everything
and nothing all at once
where I’ve prayed and asked God “why”
countless times
I’ve cared too much, I’ve been
over-critical of myself
I’ve been broken more times
than I’d like to admit
I have struggled with myself
what I’m meant to do,
who I’m supposed to be
so many people ask me what my tattoos represent,
but one in particular
it’s my birthday, in roman numerals
it’s a reminder.
I’m here.
I’m meant to create.
maybe for a decade, maybe for a lifetime.
only God knows,
but all I know
is that I’m meant to do it right now
and I’m grateful to have had the chance.