Growing up, music was a calling for me. It was home.

I was a troubled kid. The cops were called on me in third grade while having a breakdown in elementary school. I didn’t hurt anyone, but the principal saw me as a threat. She didn’t know how to treat children.

When I was eleven, I thought I found solace in someone I idolized, who let me into their group after I jumped for joy at the prospect of meeting them. Their group has left scars on me I still have not recovered from. I was verbally abused and had my social life dangling over my head time and time again. People with good hearts were shamed and dismissed, and I was celebrated for taking part.

Eleven years later, I find that scared, traumatized and vindictive child continuing to scream out for help in my music, and I find it difficult to listen to it, knowing that it has taken so long to look back, and I have allowed this cycle to repeat itself time and time again. I find myself panicking, gasping for air when I listen to a single song of mine these days. I can’t bring myself to listen to much of anyone’s music anymore.

Home has fallen apart, and has left me broken and beaten down.

I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who I am supposed to be. The only thing of which I am certain is my acceptance of this life not being mine anymore.

I would like to turn the page on my own accord. In whatever life I happen to find, I simply wish to be someone’s daughter, and someone’s friend. That’s all I need to be for now.

As such, this extended play will be my last.

‘Something In The Water’, the second single from my extended play, To Carry You Home, is out now on streaming services.

Thank you.