My father committed suicide. He did so when I was just a small child. The implications didn’t sink into my skull, though I was affected. He was a man living with one foot in the door, and the other out the door, then one day he took both feet out the door by pulling the trigger of a gun that was pointing at his own head. I don’t know what was going on in his head. Was it confusion? Was it enlightenment? I don’t know. All I know is that since my father committed this act, I have been told that I am more likely to commit it myself, like some horrible tradition. I don’t want to, but sometimes I feel the same way, like I’m living life with one foot in the door and one foot out the door, and if it becomes to much for me to handle, then I myself could just take that other foot out the door, though I wouldn’t shoot myself because I’d want it to be an open casket funeral. As you can tell, I’ve already thought about it more than I should.

All that matters to me is expressing my self through art, finding a way to allow people to understand me, when truly I don’t even understand myself. The images that I pull from the well of my psyche are perplexingly un-interpretable. My brain is a massive wad of images which don’t make sense to me, and in all of this I have found the skill of putting these images on paper for everyone else to see. I think this is the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me. It makes me into something un-definable, a warrior on a journey down a path with no signs.

Still grasping for that ever elusive nich into the comic world. I want to be the best. I want to make a comic so visually pleasing that people would want to buy it just to look at the pictures. And I want the art to be matched only by the quality of writing. I want to tell a tail so strange that you have no idea what's going to happen next, but you crave it. I want it to totally take you out of your world, and put you into mine. IT'S SO DIFFICULT THOUGH!

I'm 21 now, will it ever happen?