BLIND: ZINE 1, RED

Life Period: 2012–2013, when I found myself intoxicated with infatuation for what I saw as a broken soul in need of healing.⁣

This zine is a rosy depiction of the dangers that come with ignorance, empathy, and blind love.⁣

In many ways, the Red Zine is glowy, hazy, and blurred — a reflection of myself during the time in which it takes place. I was accepting and practicing life like it was an instrument I wanted to master. And to master anything, one must hit bad notes. Fall. Fail. There is no growth without vulnerability, and I intended to grow tenfold.

This zine is a reflection on just how little I controlled my own life at the time. There were times I loved it, times I felt guilty, times I fed into the darker side of me, but mostly I was on clouds, and that lifestyle didn't require much thinking. I sort of liked that. Not having to think about anything was dangerously attractive. ⁣

The things that happened during this time weren't my fault, but they weren't really anyone's fault. Things just are. They just happen. You get to learn from them later. In the moment, all you can do is experience. ⁣

LETTERS: ZINE 2, ORANGE

Life Period: 2013–2014. A collection of illustrations of “his” words, postmarked over a 17-month period. This is the only zine in the collection in which the words are not my own, but instead, bits and pieces of letters addressed to me (in chronological order).

I chose the words I wanted to include with intention, in hopes of communicating and validating the confusion I felt at the time.

Consider these pages like fucked up greeting cards from a place of despair. Some of them are drenched in words that, at the time, I found incredibly romantic. And maybe they still are. But I'm not so naive anymore, and I won't allow anyone to take total advantage of my sympathy ever again.

Other pages are blatant illustrations of guilt.

It's hard to live your own life when you feel so responsible for someone else's. This is a theme throughout both of the relationships that span the red, orange, yellow, green, and blue zines. It isn't until purple that I finally begin to water myself.

I'd like to thank the subject of this zine for providing me with the words that decorate this piece. I may not have asked permission, but at times, neither did he.

THE FINDING: ZINE 3, YELLOW

Life Period: 2014, where I become madly drunk on life (amongst other things) and exist as intensely as I possibly can until eventually I reach the sun.

This title holds a triple meaning:

1. The finding of myself as a separate entity, unattached and free-falling for the very first time. 

2. A reference from my Catholic upbringing, the fifth joyful mystery, where Jesus is found in the temple, challenging the priests and questioning their interpretation of the Bible. This feels congruent to my own curiosity during this time, questioning what he had taught me and searching for answers in a new world where he was less present. 

3. The finding of a new soul — one who is just as lost, and as divine timing will have it, we fell into each other. 

This zine takes place after three years of feeling so hopelessly lost but so absolutely free. Three years of pushing my limits and seeing just how far I could possibly go before I reached the edge of the cliff. Three years of navigating uncharted waters, only to find that water was all that there was to begin with, and that attempting to navigate any longer was futile. I decided to drown. 

I had friends that cared, but when you're that high up, everything else looks like ants—so tiny and seemingly insignificant. It was easy to ignore anyone who was trying to call me down. 

There is one page that depicts a rainbow and a dead bird — the contrast is intentional, depicting the dichotomy of how I felt: constantly being pulled into and out of newfound light, abruptly being sucked back into darkness with a single phone call I had to accept charges for. Agony.

I wasn't sure what I wanted or what was right. I felt like I was flying but I just kept slamming into the sides of some self-constructed cage that I had no idea I held the keys to.

And just when I thought I couldn't take it any longer, a new sun rose. Have you ever loved hysterically?

EUPHORIA: ZINE 4, GREEN

Life Period: 2015, when I faced a desperate longing for an identity that I could not find in myself, but only in the reflection of the eyes of another (a new love).

This zine represents energies colliding. I was looking for an answer, and he was looking for a loophole.

He appeared to be full of light, like Robin Williams. Light can be energizing, inspiring, and revealing. It can show you things that were once hidden in darkness. It can fill empty spaces and heal our minds and our bodies.

But it can also cause blindness. I was so close to the sun I couldn't see. I didn't care to. I was on top of the universe, for a short while.

When we shared a physical space, we were in a bubble—a giant, gleaming, opalescent bubble where nothing could ever go wrong. 

We were a brilliant white light. Our devotion to the love was sanctified within this light, which eventually attracted darkness. 

More on that in Blue.

I don't think Heaven would be Heaven without the existence of Hell.

TRUE BLUE: ZINE 5, BLUE

Life Period: 2016, where we became bandaids, two infected bandaids. Love nested in hurt.

I reflect on the start of the rain and the role I did or did not play in the downpour. This zine provides some reasons why I never thought to look out the window to acknowledge it.

He was so, so bright, but I've never seen anyone so fucking scared. I held him for as long as I could. I never judged, only accepted. Over and over again.

I couldn't save him from his demons. 

I feel him guiding me in the gentlest of ways. I think he lives inside of me now.

HERE THINKING: ZINE 6, PURPLE

Life Period: 2017, where I have all the questions and no answers.

This zine begins with a learned survival tactic (loving), and ends in questioning just about all of my memories.

I question my memory more often than I should. Is that how it really happened? Looking back, knowing what I know now, it's hard to conjure the feelings and emotions I once felt without immediately explaining them away or deeming them invalid because of x, y, or z. 

Resist that urge. Don't explain them away. You can still know what you know now, but don't let that keep you from exploring all of the feelings and emotions you once felt. I'm a big believer that the present moment is all we have, and if you felt a certain way in a certain moment, that is the truest form of your memory of it.

Or so I’ve pondered.

To all of the questions, to none of the answers. To existing in spaces where you're allowed to admit you're still figuring it out.

I heard once we're all just stardust.