And I try to let it out in my drawings, when I play alone, when I go to shows.
It's my whole life.

Be strong. Be hardcore.

youtu.be/uLQUj2Z5yB4?...

And then you understand that to rise again you've got to drag out all the dirt, all the pain, all the rage you've been carrying inside. You throw it out with no shame, no filter, no fear. And from that same darkness, you pull yourself back up, one centimeter at a time.

Those notes, those riffs, those screams become oxygen. They charge you up.
Because you don't just listen to them... you wear them on your skin.

Metal, punk, and hardcore music have given me the right spark lately, the right push, a reason to fight and keep going, the way those genres always do. Because deep down, they exist for when you've actually been hit, when you've swallowed shit.

Because the world is dirty, cruel, unfair. It crushes you and makes you feel it.
But you'll never get me on my knees.
You fall, you bleed, you swear...
but then you stand back up and move on. Always.

Today I'm still fighting, through highs and lows, moments of joy and disappointment. For myself, for my life, for my dreams.
I smile even when it burns; I walk even when the ground cracks open beneath me.

I realized that you either get up... or you drown.
I chose to get up and fight.

Three, four, five months of hell tearing your skin off just to see if you break.
I didn't break.
My mother and I got torn apart, but we held on, one slap at a time.
And while everything I knew was collapsing... certainties, supports, the solid ground under my feet...

Since October 18th, 2024, life has been hitting harder. It didn't change completely... but it marked me deep: my father's death.
Problems to solve, heavy and suffocating, the kind that crush you without mercy...

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