I didn’t write this series to heal.
I wrote it because I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
When I was a kid, something happened that I buried so deep it shaped my whole life without me knowing.
At 35, it came back. Not as a flashback — as a fracture. Quiet, violent, undeniable.
Suddenly, everything made sense. The hunger to be seen. The bulimia. The obsession with getting it right. The sex. The work. The disconnection. The charm. The collapse.
It wasn’t ambition — it was survival.
I always say I survived twice. Once when I was a child. Once when I remembered. The second time nearly killed me.
I don’t want applause. I want to show what it feels like when your identity is built on something you never asked for.
When the thing that hurt you most… also made you who you are. And you can’t tell if that’s tragic or beautiful.
This show doesn’t try to fix that question. It just dares to sit in it — and look.