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In the barely perceptible space between wakefulness and daydreaming, I find myself suspended—both grounded and weightless. Existence becomes a kaleidoscope, defying the dull. Waking and dreaming come together, and the ground beneath my feet becomes a portal to infinity.

Painting is therapeutic for me. I express my trauma, recovery, fear of improving, hope, despair, profound shame, anger, true joy, newfound sexuality, and qualities in myself I never knew existed. I am breaking through and processing. I love seeing my artwork evolve with my mental health. Sometimes, I imagine breaking through a black-painted window and escaping a dark room, a lightless place filled with razors and broken mirrors. Outside, there are shards of glass everywhere. It is still painful, but I finally escaped. And the wounds will heal. They are healing. I pour my soul into my paintings because I must stay grounded. My parts, my emotions. I urgently and compassionately create visual representations of them because if I don't, the...