Releasing my album I’m Not Supposed To Be Here on Nov 27 with a 7 pm launch event at The Box, Fargo Village. Exploring mental health and suicide as a human experience. https://t.co/c8R61zqPwt
Disabled people deserve to be heard, to be seen and to be happy.
And we deserve and need allies, because still, in 2026, voices like mine aren’t taken seriously.
But they will be.
https://t.co/iXihoG3kq0
I’m so happy with the life I have, and for the first time, I’m actively planning a future. But even now — and maybe until the day I die — it feels like I’ll never have the final say in my own life. #poetry
I was very sceptical about the idea of a long-distance relationship, but I knew how we both felt, and it was undoubtedly a real connection. Since meeting in person, nothing has made more sense to me. 🖤🤍
We share/swap hyper focuses. She lets me word vomit about Jonathan Davis and Korn and seems to genuinely enjoy my nonsense!
How can I not be wildly in love with her 😂
Internalised ableism has held me back my entire life. Finding someone who just fucking makes me drop all my defences, who matches my exact energy—it’s freaky.
To have open and gentle communication about love, futures, pasts, traumas, insecurity… it feels revolutionary.
Our friendship circle recently got smaller. I wrote this after hearing a beautiful speech from my friend about the wonderful life she shared with her husband—despite the many obstacles thrown in their way, mostly due to the inherent ableism they faced.
By the end of her speech, I was emotional. Proud to know them both. Angry at the unfairness of it all.
There’s a societal misconception around disability and love: that we’re somehow less deserving of it, or that love is less of a necessity for us.
At the same time, I feel incredibly lucky to be loved and supported, to have people who believe in me and my art. And there’s such a deep cognitive dissonance in that. You’d have to be where I’m from, to have been the kid I was, to really understand.
I’ve had a heart full of anger these past few days. I wanted to do something—to be a comfort, to “fix things.” But I couldn’t. Nobody can. It feels like anything I do is pointless because suffering will always exist.