The intent is to be free and make my designs, put them on apparel and let things run their course until I expire. My dreams consist on all the media I once enjoyed and still do. It is what originally inspired me to do this but failed to drive me. My nightmares are my thoughts, written in poetry, made into images.

They haunted me long enough. I needed to get rid of them somehow. 

I don't want this to be a "business". I want it to be my place, my thing; where I do as I desire, and if I happen to make some coin from it, that'll do. I don't want to fill the world with marketing filth. For this I made two identical sites, one runs the shop through a site that is dedicated for that, and this one, for all the words, and what little identity there can be.

This is not some entrepreneur. I am just the afterimage of a faker. An attempt of artist that couldn't find a home. 

I don't say it to gain your sympathy. I don't wish for praise through pity, and I don't need lies, I simply say it as I see it. 

Life did its best to make what was terrible worse... over and over, one way or another, but I may have reached the limit, the point where all has become irrelevant, where the only thing that remains is my "art". I am pushing beyond the incomplete; trying to overcome the fear of imperfection. I just want it to be.

I want to be set free. From all. Especially from myself. Thoughts have become an affliction, they haunt me endlessly. They are a parasite to my being.