Then...
- 11 years old
- Saint Leon, Indiana
Now...
- 19 years old
- Davao City, Philippines
- Nomadic Artist
My Story...
I remember the days of being shoved into lockers, books tossed out of my hands and the boys who would made sure to call me “four eyes” everyday. As I look back almost 9 years ago; I’m so glad I went through an awkward stage(years). My friends were my friends not because I was rich, had locks that would flow in the wind, perfect white teeth or a blemish free face. They were my friends because they liked my odd sense of humor, how I could turn a canvas into magic, the way my eyes would light up when someone called me pretty because it wasn’t something I heard a lot. I’m still that girl on the left. Just a more refined version. Version 2.0. I still have acne scars, elegantly unkept hair and you know what? I’m okay with that. I wasn’t handed anything growing up and I’m so thankful for that. It made me tough, it made me ambitious and it’s the reason I’m out traveling the world because I fear nothing but fear itself. To the girl or boy with the round glasses studying until day break, the acne prone skin in front of the mirrors for hours, the thin brittle hair that you have no idea what to do with or the over weight child who gets called names for enjoying food; you are not alone. We are the children who lived through a war that is not recognized. And yes, some of us will fall. But some of us will rise through the ashes. Give them hell kids; you’re worth it.