The Secret Life Of Sunnï Blū

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My estranged Ex Husband, Starr Michael Roberts verbally agreed upon our separation and imminent divorce that due to the nature of my departure, which was several accounts of domestic abuse, physical violence, and aberrant alcoholism, not to pursue any financial compensation or collect child support on the grounds that the essential need for our separation and cause of my departure was not negligence or abandonment, however, recovery and stabilization after our relationship ceased on 01/01/2017; He at the time also agreed to undergo care and treatment for his own deteriorated health, mental health, and drug/alcohol addiction, as well as anger management, to which it is unknown that he did seek treatment as stated. He was supposed to have been sober upon my departure in 2019, Howevers admitted that in 2023, He was sending our son to my mother for a fourth time (four times in four years), and that his alcoholism had again “ruined a lot of things”, and that he was seeking sobriety and treatment. Again, he was supposed to have been sober in 2019, when I departed, and was forced to leave my minor son in his custody after a physical altercation which was documented by the fairbanks police department, in which he took my house key, separated it from my car key, carved a mark into the side of my face, and threw me (physically) from the apartment, keeping my house key and locking my son and himself inside, then disappearing with my son for a short time, as I retreated to the women's shelter, and later to the hospital, where they recorded the injuries to my face, and evident marks and bruises due to strangulation, plus some other minor injuries from the assault, as described further below.

Our final separation began after a physical assault (documented by the fairbanks police department, a case which did not continue to court because of my estranged Ex-husband's disappearance with our then two-year-old child— with the concern that my ex husband may have fled with our child under impending arrest for l domestic charges, of which the injuries and concurrent mental health impact I sustained due to the ongoing violence, negligence, and infidelity within the home we shared during my work hours, lead to hospitalization and investigation by the Fairbanks Police department; While at the hospital, I agreed to not press charges, as I was informed by the officers that because I was in the hospital, my son would go into protective custody; I agreed not to press charges so long as my child was found to be safe.

The case was later closed due to inactivity, as due to further exacerbation of the abuse and harassment I continued to face in fairbanks after my hospitalization, which included stalking and multiple attempts and multiple threats on my life, attacks by alleged members of my ex husband's self-stated “criminal organization, which would have me killed and buried in the woods where no one would find me” He claimed that he belonged to a gang previously, but had never mentioned specifically “an organization” before, and has denied stating this since.

I then quickly acquired a transfer through the corporation at which I was employed at the time, The Geo Group, as a Security Management Supervisor, to flee Fairbanks in fear of continued harassment and further attacks on my psyche, well being, and peace of mind. After relocating to Los Angeles with less savings than expected, before departing Fairbanks, my ex-husband had stolen a substantial amount of my cash savings, which was hidden in the residence; money that I was reluctant to keep in the bank, because he had a pattern and habit from stealing from my debit card account, using the ATM to make transactions or using as a credit to make purchase, after I had changed my pin— he would take large withdrawals or even spend extravagantly on food, clothes for himself, and video games.

After a turbulent transition into Los Angeles, I struggled heavily, having abandoned a recently purchased vehicle that I intended to take to California, which was consequently repossessed due to my abandonment, was unable to secure a necessary second income; Having the eviction on my record from the apartment we shared during the time of the first violent domestic incident (2017) occurred, after which due as a direct result to the injuries I sustained during the brutal incident, which occurred in front of our then-two young infant sons—in which my ex husband, retreating from calling me a slew of malicious obscenities, then protested my reaction by flinging our then-nearly 2-month-old son onto the couch (he threw the infant, swaddled, onto the sofa) and proceeding to ‘lose himself' in a fit of rage, pinning me down, choking me by holding me by the neck, and punching me repeatedly, (about four of five times, drawing back each time while continuing to hold me by my neck, choking me) until he seemed to realize that I had or had nearly lost conciousness and could no longer scream, speak, or breathe– then letting me go—to which, upon having my neck released from his grip, I was able to stand up, however unrealizing how disoriented I was, quickly fell back down, smearing blood against the hallway walls–at this point realizing that I was bleeding heavily, collecting in a pool on the floor and having smeared against the wall and into my hands as I held them to my face, in an attempt to control the blood from pouring out– I became more shocked and scared, retreating at that point into the furthest corner of the apartment, the back bedroom–my ex husband chasing after me, attempting to keep me from the bedroom, which I ran into, attempting to close the door as he forcefully attempted to get in, pushing my body weight against the door and leaving more smears of bloody handprints on the door, and the walls surrounding the door, pleading with him to leave me alone—

Meanwhile, our two young sons were unattended in the other room.

As he persisted to apologize, he then started to ask repeatedly as to whether or not I would call the police, then springing into a rant about leaving, saying he was going to kill himself—stating “my mother told me to never hit a woman” (paraphrasing) “I'm going to kill myself”, then leaving the apartment, not returning for a number of hours. As I cleaned the bloody mess from the apartment, looking after our young sons, I urged him repeatedly through text not to commit suicide, and not to leave our two young sons without a father; once he was assured that I would not call the police, he returned to the apartment, and I proceeded to go to work, unrealizing perhaps how swollen and damaged my face was, before looking into a mirror—arriving at work, and taking photos of my injuries, sending them to my best friend, before deleting them, as my ex husband had in the previous months developed a habit of going through my phone; I did not report the incident to the police, however, my employer at the time took note of my injuries, and though she seemed eager to know what had happened, in fear, I relayed her procurements; as she left for the evening, leaving me with my duties, I found myself unable to preform even the simplest tasks, leaving work earlier than usual after abandoning my post, and being quickly apprehended and dismissed the next day.

Having depended on this income, we quickly were burdened with the inability to pay the rent, and were subsequently evicted; it was due to this that upon leaving alaska, I could not arrange to lease my own apartment, and upon asking for help relinquishing the debt so that I could rent, I was told to pay for it myself; in the following years I rented rooms, worked in hostels, stayed with friends under the mercy of their charity or for exchange of cleaning/organizing slept in tents, at campgrounds, and eventually, even, in the back of my car, during which time I attempted to remain in steady contact with my son, however, mostly being ignored, sometimes for even days or weeks at a time—and though I had originally intended to take my son with me– the final physical attack (2019) by my ex husband prevented me from doing so, as he had physically, after strangling me, picked me up, using my house key to draw into my face after prying it out of my hands, and separating it from my car key—-carving intently into my face; then picking me up fully from the ground, and ejecting me from the household, without my glasses or my phone, tossing me out onto the portch (In Alaska, at the beginning of Autumn, where though snow had not yet fallen, the chill of winter had already begun) with no coat, no proper clothes, and only my car key, locking me out of the apartment. Upon arriving at the women's shelter, I was told that I should report to the hospital to document my injuries and call the police to collect my son, who could stay with me at the shelter. Upon doing so, I was informed that my husband and son could not be found, and that if I wished to press charges my son would go into protective custody, as I was under observation in the hospital and there was no other responsible party to care for him; I then agreed to not press charges so long as my son was found to be safe, which he was after some time.

Between this time and the time that I was able to leave Fairbanks, the abuse and violence continued in attempts to use my deteriorating mental state, a direct effect of the trauma I had endured over the months and years that our relationship had grown violent, stemming from a discovery of the multiple accounts of infidelity and leading into a series of increasingly violent altercations due to my depression as a result of this discovery, my mental health was used to repeatedly attack and disarm me, inaccurately labeling me by my estranged ex husband as an unfit mother; though I had from the beginning had every intention of remaining my son's primary custodial guardian, at first verbally agreeing that I would keep our son 70% of the time, (School Days, Monday-Friday) with the other 30% belonging to my ex husband, including some breaks, weekends, and Holidays— we both agreed at the time, that it would be better for me, the more organized, capable, and energetic parent to have our son during the school week (Monday-Friday), and that my ex husband would take our son on weekends, some holidays, and school breaks;

It was agreed from the beginning that neither of us would seek any financial compensation for the caretaking and responsibility of our son; and that for no reason should we seek financial support or obligation from one another.

Though I had put it in writing before my departure, my ex husband had refused to sign the paperwork, before intentionally attempting to disable my personal, professional, and social reputation by manipulating traumatic events, such as masturbating in front of our son openly, watching pornography in front of our son (then two years old), disappearing for long periods of time and leaving our son completely alone, stealing from pools of money I had collected and saved in order to amicably separate and move (first attempting to move across town into my own apartment in Fairbanks so that we could co-parent, after which the attacks became frequent and incessant, manipulating events such as moving my belongings around, allowing other women to wear and take my clothes and personal belongings; in some cases women would leave her personal belongings in our then-shared space, disorganizing my personal effects while I was away at work, and a multitude of other low-brow manipulation in order to force me to cease the attempts to amicably separate, divorce, or care for my child. I had at first wanted only move across town, and not across the country, and though the time alone has given me the time to recuperate and grow by means of a career in entertainment, I have suffered far more greatly in the loss of family, companionship, love, and otherwise; I have not enjoyed any of this time, as my ex has proclaimed, but have spent a greater part of the last four years suffering, using music and physical activity as a means of therapy and coping with all of these great losses.

In the years since our separation, estrangement, and imminent divorce, my ex husband has multiple times been unable to properly care for our son, which has resulted in the multiple prolonged arrangements to relay my son's care into the custody of my mother—on three separate occasions since my departure, my son has spent months in the care of my mother, from which I have been able to second-handedly care for my son, providing her with support, care packages, and considerable communication; my mother, Shawn Sharee Hotch, has taken immaculate care of my son in the wake of my ex hausband's inability to, which of course attributed to my own inability due to other extrenuating circumstances as outlined in this letter or otherwise; his time with my mother has always been prolonged, long term custody arrangements, in which my ex husband neither contributed financially or otherwise; in the care of my mother, it was discovered that Bearr was behind on medical obligations, missing shots, and was often sick due to hygiene and nutritional deficits—in the care of my ex husband, he had grown to be morbidly obese, and, has several timers stated in his own way his father's incompetence and repetitive neglectful behavior, admitting that he has oftentimes gotten into trouble because his father simply wouldn't wake up—.his troublesome sleeping habits also a factor in our older son's untimely death, my ex husband often failing to wake up to alarms or multiple attempts of waking by others or outside forces.

It is to this effect, the multiple inconsistencies, ongoing neglect (for months and weeks not being able to contact or communicate with my son, only being able to freely and openly communicate with him when he is in the custody of my mother, at which I have supported her greatly over the years) that I do not owe child support to my ex, or owe repayment of the outstanding balances that are reflected in the procurement of my income now, or any further income, furthermore, as I continue on the path to recovery and wellness, having overcome undeniable hardships and adversity, I wish to pursue the entirety of my rights and responsibilities as a parent, not allocating any financial compensation to my abuser, however relinquishing the need to child support on anyone's behalf, besides my mother; I do not feel that under any circumstances that my ex husband should be soully responsible for our son, nor do I feel he can be trusted or responsible for unsupervised custodial responsibility, believing that due to his violence, alcoholism, and sleeping issues he should be at all times supervised by a ward of the state or child protective services in Bearr's best interest, and do feel that the violence and custodial obligations should be further investigated by the district attorney of the state of alaska, or wherever our discovery case should presume, in that nature, in order to protect my own safety, after multiple attempts and attacks on my life and my oiflvelihood, inclclusing stalking and death threats, that the new identity, which I was forced to take after being stalked online by my ex husband m long after my departure,which limited my ability to manuver as a musician and artist, that my new identity be kept private, and that the remainder of our divorce proceed on the grounds of complete anonymity, for my own protection and the sake of my career and well being, as I feel it is unsafe and unwise for my ex husband to know my new name, my current occupation(s), or my whereabouts, since our son has for the majority of the year been in the custody of my mother's care, during which time I have provided support and an open line of communication; I request that any outstanding balances, if concluded to still be considered “owed”be allocated to my mother, as she has had Bearr in her custody numerous times over years since our separation for extended periods of time. I believe that my ex husband actually owes support to my mother for the time our son has spent in his care; compensation for medical, nutrition, and hygiene, as well as clothes and school supplies, as my son completed kindergarten and continued into the first grade while in her care during which time she had provided her time and dedication to his well-being.

I am requesting upon receipt of this document the discontinuance of any collection or procurement of financial gains for the repayment of child support until our divorce is finalized and a court ordered custody agreement is settled upon; as I have in this turbulent time of transition been greatly financially disadvantaged, with a great deal of my income, taxes, and all of my pandemic relief being collected and paid to child support, to which my ex husband has still allocated the care and responsibility for our son to my own family, to whom I have supported both financially and otherwise, sending care packages and otherwise showing mh capability and intent to my parental rights and responsibilities tk the best of my abilities. Any outstanding balance should be relayed to my mother, and I am requesting that all payments cease until the divorce is final and a custody arrangement is agreed upon.

Please note that during the time which it has been stated or determined as a preliminary judgment that I owe child support, I was not allowed to speak with or communicate with my child by his father, who for months did not answer calls, only ever briefly responded to texts, and intercepted contact between myself and my child for weeks and months at a time, between 2020 and the present time, October 2023.

Also note that during this time, a time of recovery from the outright violence and emotional abuse by my estranged ex, my estranged ex husband, Starr Michael Roberts knowingly and intentionally contributed to my continued homelessness, by refusing to help or pay half or even contribute to any of what was owed to a previous residence– the residence at which the first account of domestic violence and abuse took place, intentionally keeping me from being able to rent an apartment due to the shared eviction on my credit/background, while he was only abe to rent an apartment in Fairbanks, Alaska due to nepotism and “family connections”— He did this purposely as a targeted attack on my livlihood in retalation for my decision to permanently sever our relationship, with the understanding that this homelessness made it more difficult, and at times impossible to arrange to have my son Bearr with me so that we could share custody; the The obvious ntentions of his father [my estranged ex husband] was to keep him away from me as long as possible, and to sever our familiarity with one another–suggested that I should pay off the eviction myself and refused to help– though he was the soul reason for the eviction from the apartment, having contributed directly to the loss of my job and directly to the mental degradation and dysfunctionality thereafter as a direct result of the physical and mental injuries and trauma sustained during the first violent physical domestic abuse altercation; he refused to help pay to remove the eviction after first agreeing to help pay, or “pay it off when he got his taxes” He then reneged this, understanding the benefit of my absence was receiving a part of my income as child support, even after stating he “didn't need it” and that he was “making good money.” He seemed to thoroughly enjoy that I was in hardship and consistently homeless since my departure from Alaska; He literally laughed, knowing that the reason I was unable to secure an apartment and share custody was due to this eviction.

At an extreme disadvantage, due to paying extraneous costs to continue working, often paying for hotels, air bnb, and hostels in the time since my departure from the abusive relationship, I was unable to remove the eviction myself—which with the court fees had nearly doubled its original balance, and had fallen into collections–however, I was at times working two full time jobs, or more typically, or one full time job and one part time job throughout the duration of our separation; sleeping on friend's couches, in a tent in state parks, in hostels, hotels, or air bnb's, or even for brief periods, in the back of my car–however, during the pandemic, the gyms (at which I would shower daily) closed, and I was unable to even obtain proper hygiene, which prompted me to take all I had earned and collected, and attempt to move somewhere more affordable, where I would be able to have time with my son; I settled at this point in coastal mexico, where I began DJing professionally, however, returning to the United States to work after nearly a year, at which point, again, due to this eviction, I became homeless. Though I have worked continually full and part time jobs since my return to the United states, I have still been yet to secure my own apartment, however–and am still technically homeless, having taken shelter in a women's facility, successfully changing my name and gender identity with the hopes that my estranged abuser does not continue to harass and stalk me– it was stated after a period of time living with a friend in Boston Massachusetts, that the reason I wasn't allowed to speak to my son was because my estranged ex-husband had seen a video posted to my YouTube account under the name which I had used at the time to pursue music (Sunni Blu), and after months of calling to no answer, after which I was made to fear that something was wrong, panicking and worrying for the safety of my child–my estranged ex-husband finally picked up, asking “Are you Sunni Blu?” Explaining that he had seen one of my videos, in which my male (platonic) friend appeared as a character in my ongoing series and concurrent podcast; I have since stopped making music under this moniker, after he told me that someone had showed him this video, and have presumed making music under other multiple aliases as not to continue to be stalked, tracked, or followed by he or anyone associated with him online; I have deactivated all social media accounts belonging to my previous namesake and identity, and am therefore extremely cautious about sharing my true legal name and whereabouts as I navigate my career and personal life–I have made numerous efforts to disconnect myself from my estranged and abusive ex, who has seemed to have taken ‘revenge' tactics against my wellness, wellbeing, and safety, first stating that he was ‘summoning demons' and using ‘Shamanic Magick”, which he later denied and claims he did not state–however, during multiple times over the course of the end of our relationship, he stated that I was under “control”, that he “belonged to a powerful organization that would have me killed and bury me in the woods where no one would find me”, and that I was “crazy”.

After years of what seemed endless struggle, torture, and ridicule–the inability to rent an apartment leaving my life in dysfunctional shambles, I pleaded with my estranged abuser to file for divorce, which has me appearing as the defendant, however—this is only due to the fact that I was often homeless, living in my car, sleeping on friend's floors and couches, or paying outrageous prices and tourism taxes for hostels, hotels, and airbnb, to which, combined with the amount of child support I have already paid my abuser, has taken a majority of my earned and documented income over the past 4 years.

Again, during this time I have been almost barred from my child's life when he is in the custody and ‘care' of his father, as he deliberately refuses to answer calls for weeks and months at a time over the last four years, since late 2019/Early 2020. He has forced me to worry, panic, and rile in concern and uncertainty–I have since learned to cope with the grief of becoming estranged from my son, not by choice, but by force.

Starr Michael Roberts has agreed to dismiss the pursual of child support or any monetary compensation for the responsibility of Bearr Michael Rainn, currently residing in the full custody of my mother, Shawn Sharee Hotch, as he (supposedly, as stated) seeks treatment for anger management, and drug and alcohol abuse, which has since lead to the abuse and neglect of our son, Bearr Michael Rainn, leading to his placement in the custody of my Mother, Shawn Sharee Hotch in Las Vegas Nevada, where Bearr resides and attends school currently.

Due to stalking, death threats, and ongoing mental and emotional abuse from Starr Michael Roberts, I have relocated, remaining in anonymity and seek to dissolve our marriage as quickly as possible so that I can move forward in continuing to pursue a career in entertainment, to gain financial independence with which I will be able to further protect myself, and recover lost time with my son.

Starr Michae Roberts has verbally agreed that in the event of his sobriety and anger management treatment that if Bearr Michael Rainn is to be returned to his custody, that he shall presume 100% of the financial responsibilities;

After becoming estranged from my abusive ex husband and son, I have been under extreme pressure to overcome homelessness, poverty, and debt with the crippling post traumatic stress and anguish caused by my abuser, Starr Michael Roberts, during our marriage— the physical effects of the violence against me are permanent; a raised scar where my teeth once protruded through my bottom lip, and an eye-shaped scar on the right side of my face are currently present, as documented by the Fairbanks Police Department and Fairbanks Memorial Hospital.

His violence and abuse of drugs and alcohol lead to my homelessness starting in 2019 and ending in 2023; Bearr Michael Roberts currently resides with my mother in Las Vegas Nevada, where she will confirm I am in direct contact with her and Bearr and have shown numerous supportive efforts as I continue to rehabilitate my life and move forward.

My estranged ex is the definition of toxicity; he exhibits a range of behaviors ranging from hygienic neglect, to emotionally abusive inclinations, such as (but not limited to) acute narcissism and verbal assault, psychological, emotional, and sometimes brutal physical torture.

Over the course of our 8 year relationship, my ex's behavior escalated increasingly—albeit due to various environmental factors, however broadly exacerbated by the conditions of his admittedly continuous adultery and inability to control impulses.

He admitted to openly courting, flirting with, talking to or even dating “hundreds of women” from the beginning of our relationship, to our initial separation in 2017; We then for the sake of our child[ren] reconciled our relationship shortly, ending it indefinitely in May of 2019. After a short lived stay at a women's shelter in fairbanks, alaska, I moved to a private residence, at which I continued to receive death threats and harassment from my now estranged ex husband. He stated several times that he “belonged to an organization [who will] kill you and bury you in the woods where no one will ever find you”.

After receiving the incident report from the final domestic incident between my estranged ex-husband, and I, I am now reiterating with detail, the assault committed against me, in front of my infant son, who now resides with his father, though he should not.

Though I had been arranging, saving, and packing to move for quite some time. ‘My efforts were repeatedly restricted, as my then-husband became outwardly envious of my ability to plan, save, and organize to move away from him entirely. I successfully secured a second job to supplement enough income to move independently from him; however, became increasingly frustrated at the several instances of theft, both in cash I had hidden—and from my debit card, which he would take while I was sleeping between jobs to spend frivolously, on numerous occasions.

I had begun to apply for apartments, and purchased my own vehicle, which angered him deeply. He made numerous dents, scratches, and other cosmetic damage to my vehicle, by parking closely next to mine—then opening the door with extreme force to cause damage. The vehicle was eventually abandoned as I departed fairbanks.

I openly communicated my plans to divorce him, agreeing to 70/30 custody; I would spend the week with my son, and he, the weekends. He agreed to this, and as I wished to remain cordial, be became inscreasingly agitated for the remainder of time I spent in the home.

He began to play psychological games of mainipulation, such as abruptly slamming doors, cabinets, or throwing objects while I attempted to sleep between jobs; among the most prominent and troubling instances, his continuous neglect of our child resulted in a daily struggle of constant panic, fear, stress, and discomfort.

Upon waking randomly one afternoon between shifts at North Star Center, I entered the living room to observe my ex on the couch openly masturbsting in front of our son, then two years old; my son, though not facing his father was also not entirely facing the television, but rather sideways; enough so that he could clearly see me enter the room, looking up at me—his father, watching pornography on his mobile phone, hurriedly tried to cover himself, as if I had not seen what had occurred.

I do not believe this to be the first or last instance if this, as his babysitter at the time alerted me on multiple occasions that my son was touching himself inappropriately while in her care.

I began to work more diligently towards independence and total separation, agreeing to still allow our son to be cared for at all by my ex husband, so long as he agreed to attend Alcoholics Anonymous, anger management, and therapy. He agreed, but never actually obliged in any self help or behavioral health, as he believes his actions, words, and behaviors to be fine—taking no blame or responsibility for his neglect, damage, and abuse as a father figure, or husband.

Though our relationship always showed signs of emotional and psychological abuse from my ex—abuse which I could not see at the time as behavior out of the ordinary for married couples, until later exiting the relationship and reviewing what is to be considered abusive, manipulative, or dangerous behaviors by several professionals and immense research, undergoing recovery from the mental and psychological anguish endured over the course of our marriage. Though it is documented through medical records that I have in the past exhibited signs of several mental illness, my records will indicate, along with testimonies and statement from 5 witnesses that i had absolutely no hospitalizations for mental health issues or “serious episodes” before the first occurrence of serious physical violence, in spring of 2017–an incident never reported to law enforcement, as a resuming combination of fear, judgment, lack of support for my then two young children, in front of which the incident occurred.

In the early spring of 2017, as I rested between shifts, my ex husband, who had lost his job entered my bedroom [we were already separated at the time, due to the recent discovery of multiple counts of infidelity over the course of our entire relationship, including before, and after our marriage, during and between both pregnancies, “taking a break” from cheating for a “short time” in the weeks leading up to and following our wedding. He eventually admitted to talking to, courting, or flirting with “over 200 women”, using a cellular phone which was paid for by my family, whose records indicated multiple texts from unknown numbers; his internet history and email showed a pattern of talking to women through personal classified ads. He admitted to accepting random sexual favors from “random women”, and even later, paying for sex.

Although I had just fallen asleep, my ex insisted I help him with our sons before going back to work—I was still half asleep, but remember asking him to let me rest, as I only had a few hours before work. Angrily, he began to berate me—muttering fowl words about me, holding my nearly newborn son Bearr and calling me a “stupid fucking bitch”, before turning away—tired and frustrated, I tossed a small houseplant towards him, (not hitting him, but brushing his past him—which caused him to snap into an irate rage; he then threw my newborn son, wrapped in a swaddling blanket, onto the couch—

As he snapped, I turned to run, but he caught me, holding me down as he punched me in the face repeatedly, until suddenly stopping, seeming to “realize” what he had done. He became instantly not remorseful, but fearfully apologetic. Running away, I could not coordinate my movements and fell several times, as he chased me back into the bedroom; I was bleeding heavily and severely enough from several parts of my face (my upper lip, my bottom lip, and my nose) that I left several splashes, spatters, pools, and smears of blood on the carpet, walls, baseboards, doorknob, doorframe, and door; I tried to shut myself into the bedroom, but he overpowered me enough to get though the door. He apologized profusely and asked me repeatedly not to call the police, not to report him. I could not stop from crying, and dropped globs of blood from my wonder mouth and nose.

He then threatened to commit suicide and stormed out of the apartment, not returning for hours. I stayed, caring for our two young sons, one of whom is now deceased.

Though I did not report to law enforcement the incidents of that day, I sent photos of my swollen lips, jaw, blackened eyes and nose to two of my close friends, who I confided in.

Over the following days and weeks, I could not talk much, nor could I open my mouth to eat or drink. It was painful to open my eyes or move about regularly. I now accept fault for not reporting this to law enforcement, however, due to having two young children and absolutely no outside support at the time, had no means of improving immediately at that time, mainly due to financial constraints.

My first hospitalization for mental illness came not long after this first incident; the previous instances of slapping, choking, pushing or shoving during previous fights had not occurred to me as being “abusive”, but normal, until after having exited the relationship for some time.

Though we have remained separated since January of 2017, various attempts to reconcile for the sake of our children were made, however, the death of our eldest son in 2018 propelled our already chaotic marriage into more deeply troubling turbulence.

After the death of our son, my ex-husbands father offered him and my infant son a plane ticket up to Alaska; however, he did not have enough airline miles for a third ticket; —my ex-husband volunteered to “go first” to Alaska, to establish support for our remaining son, since he has family and friends in Fairbanks, having grown up in Alaska; I agreed and started seeking out work to move towards flying to Alaska; I took work in a Hostel in California, and returned to acting to provide income, however, did not make enough to return to Alaska on my own.

Due to a car accident during my time in California, my ability to work was significantly hindered; we briefly reconciled our relationship and I returned to Alaska in late 2018, securing a full time job by November of 2018 at North Star Center, where I eventually worked anywhere between 48 and 80 hours a week, often working 16 hour shifts multiple days in a row, or supplementary hours of overtime most days.

Between 2018 and 2019, After multiple days arriving home to hygienically unsound conditions due to my ex's inability to maintain cleanliness and order, as well as two separate instances of traveling home from work to get something, and discovering my ex husband to be gone, leaving our son sleeping (once, he was awake, and alone), which prevented me from returning to work, unknowing when he would return: On one occasion, he did not return to the apartment until moments before I would have been scheduled to return from work; Had I not returned home for my phone charger, our infant son would have been alone for hours by himself. I began to become concerned about my son's well-being.

We officially decided upon divorce, and I secured a second job at Good Cannabis (Fairbanks, Alaska) so that I could afford to move into my own apartment, across town.

Deciding on a two-bedroom apartment Sophie Suites, I began to select furniture to purchase so that my son could have his own bed (as we had all three shared the same bed in a one-bedroom apartment); and I looked forward to my son having his own room. I began buying him clothes, shoes, and toys specifically for my new home, also purchasing several plastic bins to organize the materials and supplies I began to select for the new home—this began the steady decline of my treatment as a human being by my ex, who began to act heinously; he allowed several women over to the house while I was working, some of whom found it okay to leave with some of my personal items, such as clothes, makeup, hair products, and some hygiene products. He left the apartment trashed, and refused to clean up after himself, or our son. I would return to the apartment between jobs to strange women in my home, the sink full of dirty dishes, trash everywhere–and my personal things rifled through.

Most days, upon returning from work, I would find him sleeping—the house in complete chaos, and our child, (then two years of age) awake, innocently playing as his father slept, sometimes into the early afternoon. By his diaper and appearance, it was clear to see that he had been awake for some time in the morning, and his father decidedly continued to sleep.

This pattern of behavior was exhibited numerous times throughout our marriage; he often was reprimanded at several of his jobs for tardiness or absence, due to his inability to wake up to multiple alarm clocks, or even being woken up several times by another individual (usually myself), however, after the subsequent eviction from our previous residence due to the physical domestic violence incident, oftentimes as I worked one job or another (again, holding two jobs), my parents would be tasked with waking him up; a process which could take an indeterminate amount of time, which, though holding no grudges and having given my forgiveness for any f these cruelties, I truly believe to have partially factored into our eldest son's death, as he slept while it occurred—however, according to my father, who was watching the boys at the time, he woke my ex husband up several times, to which my ex replied “I'm getting up”, but never did—as my father retreated to watch his regularly scheduled programming. My son (now six) also recounts often getting into trouble because “my dad wouldn't wake up' he has stated during video chats in his time in the custody of my mother that “one time he almost died”.

My estranged ex husband often used our son's death as an excuse to return to heavy drinking, still grieving, and mulling over the incident over and over. Our son (now six) tells stories of how his brother drowned, which indicates he himself may be in need of therapy. Although we had already shared in the loss of our eldest sons twin sister, he took the loss of our son harder; He is aware that he overslept as usual—as he showed obvious signs of turmoil regarding the issue, having a tendency to bring it up and refusing to seek treatment for the depression or anguish it caused.

He began to paint a picture to those involved (law enforcement, doctors, nurses) of me as “sick” and “mentally ill”, however my actions, feelings, and behaviors were a direct result of the neglect, abuse, and eventual torture he inflicted using cruel words , multiple times in front of our child, who began to, as he got older, step in to “protect me” when his father got violent; He was often present during these violent outbusts, however, as I attempted to remove him from the home, was denied access, and entered the battered women's shelter alone

In 2019, The final physical incident of abuse (as documented by the fairbanks police department) occurred in the early morning, as I attempted to re-gather all of the containers I had neatly organized and stacked, filling them with items purchased instances to stock my new home; after arriving home one day, I discover all of my newly purchased items to be rifled through, opened, missing, disheveled, and scattered among the apartment. Searching to find all my important items, I moved about the apartment quietly, as I had no intention of waking up either my ex husband, or my sleeping son. When I entered the bedroom, and looked about for an envelope I had placed a small sum of cash into, I saw that my ex had it tucked under his pillow—as I went to remove him, he immediately awoke, stating “what are you doing?” I demanded he give me my envelope—to which he refused we began arguing—he then took my keychain from me, prying it from my hands, taking off the house key, and carving into the side of my face. He then stated several times that he was “controlling demons”, and other salacious remarks which left permanent scars on my psyche and contributed further to my mental deterioration. I have since recovered, now understanding that the various mental health struggles that I was having were attributed directly to this abusive relationship; i now maintain an active lifestyle, which includes a clean raw and organic diet and also incorporates a daily gym regimen—this helps to offset the post traumatic stress disorder I have experienced, which includes but is not limited to the exacerbation of the multi-sensory perception disorder synesthesia and often presenting a misophonia due to the effects of post traumatic stress disorder (sensitivity to sounds), and an aversion to violence, such as the inability to watch certain programming which include heavy violence or fighting without the occurrence of flashbacks and induced panic attacks—the inability to watch or enjoy boxing or any other sport which might include punching, strangulation, etc. or any other sensitive subject matter.

555-420-555-420-555-420

fuck fame. I quit.

https://gofund.me/7d3da4e5

Linktr.ee/codenameblu

Instagram.com/codename.Blū

{Enter The Multiverse}

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Wicked game Chris Isaac

https://gofund.me/7d3da4e5

Linktr.ee/codenameblu

Instagram.com/codename.Blū

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

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-U.

https://gofund.me/7d3da4e5

Linktr.ee/codenameblu

Instagram.com/codename.Blū

{Enter The Multiverse}

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-U.

Fuck all ya'll, your whole team is shady.

Shady.

Those are my Fieirce and Shady Tens.

TENS.

Quit it.

TENS.

Knock it off.

TEN

TEN

TEN

TEN

TENS ACROSS THE BOARD.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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-U.

Encrypted Extraterrestrial Frequencies

Connection, or Coincidence:

Some 20 years ago the artist that would come known to the world as Skrillex hands Joel Zimmerman, the legendary artist known to the world as deadmau5 a flash drive containing what would come to be an 8-time Grammy award winning album which, due to my own synesthesia, unlocked a hidden algorithm hissing amongst the complex frequencies of this very same album which unearthed ancient prophecies of extra terrestrial knowledge predating mankind and causing the space time continuum to shatter irreconcilably, thus altering existence as we know it?!

WHAT?!

—AND—

“AND?!”

{Enter The Multiverse}

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-U.

As the earth moves below me

Both hungry and lonely

And thinking

“if only the world were to know me”

“You don't owe me anything”

But I owe you everything

I'd give you anything,

Anything—

Anything.

{Enter The Multiverse}

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-U.

Satan likes his coffee black

Like the way he made the day

That heaven's gates would call his name

And gave the keys to the kingdom

To the heathens & demons,

Amen

If this is what it is, then

"Love wins" is in another dimension

Attention:

I've given what I've given,

Did I mention,

It was just intuition;

I am my own invention,

I am unwhole, by admission

Down the rabbit hole,

Float down the River Styx and

Count to 666 and

Now I'm Dick Nixon in the 60's

Hippie sickness is

Thinking peace exists when ammunitions a vital statistic

A lunatic assumes the usual position

To the moon,

A blue balloon to the innocent

Love was heaven sent but failed to find it

None left on this planet

"Destroy it"

This goddamned family's mad

Pass the hammer, a standard

Tip the hat to the madhatter

Had her luck run out faster,

The man that she was after,

Who laughed at her,

Probably planned to have her,

But lost interest in tracking her,

Has soamy questions to ask her,

Practically has the answer to the masterpiece she believed would

Untrap her,

Alas,

That's the last short straw she has

Life keeps passing by…

I'm like

"Damn,

I'm damaged"

Why am I so unalighned

Need a psychiatrist,

but I can't find on one pinterest or instagram.

Damn,

I wish I was white,

Or light skinned

Looks nice

Where have I been?

Incased in ice,

Like the avatar no one would find,

I'm losing my entire mind,

I'm writing everytime I cry like

Someone inside my computer or Google would find it,

But I'm just a

I'm just a

I'm just a

Writer,

Kinda

I used to be a DJ,

but God makes mistakes and

Satan makes me hate my name

So I changed it.

He's a puppet on a string

(Bring me people, feed me demons) and he And he never goes to sleep well he practice what you preach it

Omn>>>midnight hour l>>bb got me like l

Flash>>> saint laurant>>el chapo >> trap shit v?

I am not a Fed

But iT app makes sense

I'm seeing read

I break my bread,

I'm left on red

Let's go to bed;

Let's go to Heaven

Don't do this to me

Not now, hanzel.

What the fuck

Just get out

That's that nigga

..shoot to kill.

I told you.

You know what?

I know what.

Fuck, you, dude!!

Duck, Duck, Duck—

Two armed guards are dragging Dillon Francis into an enclosed space, which seems ominous.

—NO—

He scratches and claws in an attempt to escape.

—YOU CANNOT DO THIS—

The Deities have demanded SUPACREE to find Skrillex—via Dillon Francis.

I will not,

Yes, you will.

Two Adonise

What?

What's the plural of “Adonis?”

ADONISES

not according to Google.

Well, fuck Google!

What did you say?

Nothing.

Shhhh, be quiet.

I thought she was asleep!

I'm not asleep!

She's never asleep.

I heard that!

LEGENDS: Part 666

Google Never Sleeps

Why 666?

Satan: why not?

I thought you changed your number?

What's a number?

That's enough, Satan.

What happened to, “not today, Satan?”

What's a day?

You do listen.

Stop praying, dude.

Satan's been praying to Jesus for relief.

Prayers for WHAT?

Relief.

Relief from what?

His own followers?!

That fucking idiot.

—

JOEL and DEADMAU5 part ways to find SUPACREE.

What the fuck.

I told you.

This isn't happening.

I FUCKING TOLD YOU!

AWWWW.

Look.

Nothing's in there…

Just wait, dude.

JOEL appears out of a portal; DEADMAU5 appears from another.

WHAT THE FUCK

I KNOW, RIGHT—

WHAT THE FUCK!

I KNOW, RIGHT.

___

What is this.

This is Skrillex.

Ew.

Don't touch it.

I'm not gonna.

You wanted to.

No I didn't.

But you thought about it—

I think about everything—

You are everything—

Everything is everything.

[beat]

Don't touch it.

Stop being telepathic!

You fucking WISH—

I —

___

Ū has been tormenting the DJs—mainly Dillon Francis— in a timeless eternal loop in an outer void created by SUPACREE.

Are SUPACREE and Ū not the same person?

They can be.

So what's the difference?

Skrillex.

Oh.

—

WHERE IS SKRILLEX.

STOP DOING THIS.

AGHHH.

AGGHHHHHHHH.

UNH.

SKRILLEX is thrown through a portal, landing in between the two.

Oh. There he is.

Wow. That's incredible.

I know, right?

I mean, I didn't think—

—I mean—

Huh.

Hm.

Is it… you?

...yeah, I guess.

Oh my God!

I FOUND SKRILLEX.

What's a “Skrillex?”

Oh NO—

Sonny—you're Skrillex—

Wait, who's “Sonny”

This isn't happening.

This is happening.

I hate you.

Dude, for WHAT?

I don't know—

You hate yourself!

—everybody does that!

They bicker

(Very slow clap)

Wvow

{Enter The Multiverse}

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COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Please. Give me your iPhone.

No!

No?

(Takes I phone.)

Is there a reason you don't want me having this?

…no.

No?

—it's full of stuff.

“Stuff.”

Yes. It's—

“Stuff.”

Yes.

—

—and things.

I know.

Look.

We had a deal.

We had no “deal”

We had a deal.

This train just goes on forever, you know;

Whether you're on, or off it—

So get off, and back on at the wrong stop

Once, if not just for the discovery

Of another supermarket,

Where you shop for strawberries and

Groceries

Good flex, God;

I got a gang of em

I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets

Sometimes,

You just got to know where to go

If you don't trust your gut,

You'll just never get,

Never get it right.

Alright, alright,

I started it

Alright, right—

I gotta get it right,

I gotta get ;

I'm the worst at introductions

Oh and,

So bad at

Goodbyes

Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol

Why,

Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes

By my eyes

God, I love the way

I love the way,

I love the way you

Love me

God, I love

The way you

The way you

Love me

You forgot about me, didn't you?

You forgot all about me

You forgot all about it—

All about it

Al about it

It's not the same, anymore

Since you gave it a name, is it?

There's nothing I can do

To help me, help you

This is all I can do,

To help me, love you

I have to remove you;

I have to remove you

In a room—

Full of beauty—

In a world,

Full of woes

I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue

Nobody ever wanted it, like I do—

Like I do

I lose the last dose of you on my tongue,

And I'm all full of love again;

I never saw anything like it,

I was a modem, still plugged into the wall

An anonymous post partum unremarkable

Post-party proclamations

and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast

Evading transportation authorities

Unworried the informant sleeping under me

Oh,

Now she wants to song—

Oh, look—

And now, she has a song to sing

A point to make,

A wrong to ring;

The man she brings along

Is bad for her

Oh, she's gotta work

(She loves to work,

She's got to work it)

What kills her makes her stronger

What doesn't kill her makes her stronger

All she does is

Carry on

And

Carry on

And

Carry on.

Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.”

Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?!

Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this!

Mrs, Sheffield!

-1flushing queens, fah ‘dis.

Very well worth it,

I got all the way to broklyn

And way beyond my means for this

It's well outta my means.

It's out of my hands, now.

That boy called you “grandpa”

How is it all over?

When I bet to God I was,

Just in your lap at this party,

And you were under me slippin on some sort of

Lager or

Something

Weren't you?

Yeah,

I was just there, too

I was just there, too—

I was just there, too—

Oh, now she has a song…

All of a sudden.—

But it's not all of a sudden at all

It's not all of a sudden

There's nothing, is there?

Oh,

There's something, surely

I went to bed late;

But I'm getting up early.

I see the way he looks at me—

—take it easy, baby

We could have the whole room waiting

Like a stoner at a stop sign

My bad,

My eyes lie to me

All the time

Driving me mad

Telling me

I want you inside me

My bad

My bad

Well, I want you in my bed

But I haven't had one yet

I'm thinking Purple Mattress;

Or is that mids, to you kids

Like Timmy ho's

Or my mustang civic

It's a custom, yeah

Nobody has it yet

It's a hybrid

Like I am

—I am a bit off subject, now

(My bad)

We never had sex in my bathroom

(That was your house)

I took a mouse to the mountain

(My bad)

My writing is getting more

Acid-centric,

Lysergic acid diethylamide;

I didn't buy any,

But I haven't the need anymore,

Really

I just wake up like this:

That is, when I wake up

(I have long nights, kids)

My bad

I want to see you very briefly

Without your briefs,

You know what I mean?

Me neither—

Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies

Repeat this sequence

I keep my deepest secrets

Where I need it

Right up my slime,

Where my spleen is—

Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since

(Or dreamed since)

In this

Endless emission,

Ignition sequence begins

When The Lean splits

Under the blood moon;

An eclipse.

I drift off a lot—

Just thinking of your penis

My daydreams are not very safe for the public

I think they're X-rated or worse,

Even thinking of you as a person,

Or worse:

As my husband

once, as my lover—

Lovers have all the fun, anyway

Hm

All the things that I'd do to you

After you put me through—

You broke my heart

(And the windows on my car)

What was all that for?

Now you you've started a holy war

I've got scars on my arms

I might love them a little more

I guess you are what you are

After all—you're a star

I'm bat shit crazy, I'm

Blind, so blind and now I'm

Hiding in a life I decided I was mine

I tried to find you

Tried to find the answer

Tried to find the time,

And now I'm fighting suicide against denial

—I still really love your smile

I had to know—and so I had to ask; both the ocean, and The Instagram Algorithm—about Dillon Francis—and, to my luck and great dispar, was swiftly answered. Now I could crawl back into my cave of obscurity and begin the elemental essentials to gather and burn all that was left of everything I had written about the the man himself; needing of course to steer clear of nothing now but love—or a lack thereof, as it were.

Now I understood that the feelings and emotions tied up in this man were indeed true, beyond real in the sense that I couldn't hold back tears, but with some gentle motion I could sway them into music; needing to shed my skin and escape my nightmarish surroundings, I would need more than a prayer—the universe had been calling me to fast; now I would answer in the only way I could, the fresh and awestruck pain of heartbreak I had knowingly caused myself, the only strain to conquer.

I loved him.

The running was over with, and the hiding was done for— I had backed myself into a corner; a comfortable wall to curl up in non existence, meanwhile, nothing—because if I could figure that If I did not see it for myself or could not otherwise randomly fathom to imagine, it did not exist, or it could not be.

Who are you,

To evoke emotion

A notation of focus,

Awoke in the moment to know,

Vote for a hope,

Or a rope, just to—

—hangglide.

What's two hands,

What's two fists look like to you?

What's two feet, what's two wrists to you—?

What's two lips, two blue eyes;

In an instant

What's to listen to the the tune of you again?

“Please Text Back”

What is this?

Another emotion,

Another world we opened,

A parallel dimension,

Just beside the hell we live in—

Exists all of this

I'd put it into Ableton, if I was able to;

The way you make me move,

And what I feel for you—

Appealing, if you're real, down to the roots

And reel-to-real

I feel so stupid—

She'll—be everything I asked for him

She is—the one I called for hoping

She was—my dream inside a dream once;

Now, digging my own grave up

Just to prove my luck, or something

So, to us, it's only justice, undone

On the walk to Eden,

It was all of us;

I reap what I've sown;

Nothing comes of nothing

Give to get,

And live to eat,

The answer's “hungry”,

If you're asking

But no one's asking,

‘And Dillon Francis's is handsome,

He had to have known that—‘

I sat at the alter, my ocean

And read to her, poetry

I wonder for nothing,

And want even less, no discussions—

Percussion in repercussions,

Patterns of claps and hats,

happen to manage the panic;

Perhaps if I laughed a little,

Or loved a little,

I'd have sung more loudly as they hung me,

From the bungalow windowsill;

It's silly how I'd kill myself again for never listening

And never listening

And never listening

—we never kissed, but always met at intersections, when needed;

Break bread for breakfast, or brunch, with the Goddess and her Demons

Never had I saw or wanted a flying saucer— until I saw two of them, off in the distance

With no one on them,

But God, I'm honest and stopped it all at once,

Just to turn on and tune in, and now I'm the April Fool—

It was just an illusion;

Another simplistic collision of infinite

What was your name again?

I'll have to ask my ex—

—husband…

Cause one time,

someone loved me.

As it turned out,

I held more feelings for the man than I had previously thought, or had motionlessly been in absolute denial of for quite some time; there wasn't another option or subject of distraction—I had been stuck on Dillon Francis, or at least the thought of him, even with the startling lack thereof. I needed to love, but it seemed to be in short supply, at least, for me, no matter where I went or what I did there. Still, while The Instagram Algorithm beckoned me to believe one thing, my intuition conditioned me to comprehend another—there was something deeper within myself and greater outwardly looming over the prénsense of this innate attraction—and though it had all started innocently, it had cascaded and begun to collapse into a avalanche of unhandled business and forgotten circumstances—

I was shaken and needed to be restrung in some way that would hold me together, until the easy way out became the hard way; perhaps if I could project into my reality what it was that nature had foretold, I could extend my being beyond that of which seemed to be an end.

At least it had been done again, in the severance of the flow of one love, there had to come another—as it's been done in generations through every genre time and time before whichever one this was, mankind had something down to an exact science for once; to withdraw the essence of love from the source of which it comes, leaving one only damaged enough to murmur or hum the would-be some-part, of some-song—if not to be sung, at least strummed out, or at the very least, written as record. Now, though I had lost nearly all ambition, I was entirely filled with enough neglect to become the apathetic, dark and untouchable alchemist I always was—reality back in touch. The final judgement was: I loved Dillon as much as I had loved Sonny, but in another way entirely—so much so, that overall, his happiness above anything to happen was what I wanted—and though I felt I had been ‘Kayla Lauren'd' once more, there was a deeper sense of doubt that with enough creativity, would bring about a world of its own—as if the world that had been created in the infinite “if” of Dillon Francis was large enough by itself to consume an idle mind with even the slightest of combustion; His eyes would drive me wild—and all that I dared to remember of the time we would spend together, is myself becoming lost in them.

‘They are green sometimes'.

I loved the grey streaking in his beard, reminding me of what I was, rather than what I had become in the midsts of it—my soul just as ancient as all the love it was made of—and now I had done it not once, but always; decided I could love anything about any one and multiply that into an infinite, undying and unconditional love—which it already was.

I'm sorry, God;

Or whoever's watching

All I wanted was love

With the one who would want me;

Now I'm a ghost, although something is haunting me

Wanted my glass house, but can't throw a rock in it

Off in a rocket ship;

What was the cost of it?

Nod off on a trip, dripping lips on the window

A kiss, just an instant to

lick up a hit of the acid

I missed wishing just as simplisticly

To live again

I'd end it if,

The reason weren't so stupid

It's not you,

I've just been used too much to do this

Overruled:

This never happened

So I had to laugh

I had to laugh

I had to laugh

I had to laugh

I had to love him, only

Cause I had to love myself, for a moment

The door was open,

I went walking in,

Then closed it;

Only now I'm here alone—

At least I own it

And I only wanted

Love

From someone who wanted

To love me

And I only wanted a hug;

But I guess I kind of got it

If you want, you know

I'll drop it, like the rock fell from my pocket

I forgot which one it was I fell in love with,

After all, I'm only nothing

“It was nothing”

It was fun

It was another father, son and brother;

Oh, no wonder—

Life is so wonderful

Falling in love with the digital runoff

Of someone with all of it

Everything I ever wanted

Everything I was, and wasn't

Just to front the cost,

Just never good enough

To come of

One, again

All I wanted was love

From the one who wanted to love me;

Now all I got is—

A closet full of skeletons,

A cause of death,

And a hot topic,

If this is Martyrdom

‘This is what happens when you dare to dream, then stop believing in it; you become caught between worlds in the catastrophic maelstrom between the world of the living, and the shattered reality you once called your dream'

now I wanted nothing more than a clean bed and a hot shower; a place to call home—I was so far stretched out beyond my comfort zone that again the thought of an instant means to an end became again, a pressing and dire need— I had only scratched the surface here and there and never had begun to break the ice—but anything I had said or done now may as well have been inscribed in stone, everything was temporary, but just fully so, it was also permanent. The looming answer was truly, that either way, I was right—either the slip in my stream of consciousness with Dillon had vanished as he began to keep the company of another more presently—just as in my early premonitions with Sonny had foretold of Kayla Lauren not too long before I would become aware of her—that my dream of Dillon in the presiding weeks accompanied by a dazzling readhead, the inspiration for “Chelsea, Chelsea!” Whispered a daunting truth; that as I suspected, anything or anyone I cared to love would be taken from me promptly; and though in the months since the literal tripping and falling into love with such a character, I had tirelessly worked to remove the romanticism and passion that had pent up within, pushing down and toiling away with the notion of a reality where, after all, my King to be had been all along, Dillon Francis. Though with a vital and vivid sense of intuition I had seen it all, I presumed it was nothing more than a flash of whimsical and innocent fantasy, admirable to those with an eye for love; a spark for my creation, which had been diminished—or so I thought.

I couldn't help but feel a fool, and baffled myself that indeed, I was in tears—because of Dillon Francis. After nearly months of tearless apathy, I had begun to think myself immune to emotion or feeling—surrounded by a slew of reflections and past companions, I had begun to again lose myself to the motion of too much carelessness, my own needs neglected from lack of finances—and seemingly excommunicated from American Society; I began to fall violently out of love with Sonny, as the universe spun me into a web where I was the fly, and the spider tying me was the spitting image of the damningly handsome once-Apple of my eye; not that I had actually lost any of the feeling for him—but, that the feeling itself had changed dramatically from a writhing passion, to a fury tinged with the blood and sweat of sacrifice in exchange for nothing, and the bitterness of genetic competition—Kayla Lauren no longer taking the brunt of my anger, but falling into irrelevance, Sonny himself becoming the poster child for everything I stood to dismiss, in music, and in general— if I were to convict that I hated him, it would only mean stagnancy, in that I still hated myself; however, strikingly, it was not so—i had begun to love myself quite so, that what I hated was the toxic world where all the men I so admired and desired thrived. Sifting through slides of the lives I wanted mine to mimick, a smile was summoned from under the rock I lived in; hiding from any of the repercussions I may have built to arrive just in time to dull my shine if I became too rampantly outward with my intentions—which, by now, were simple, at best—“at best” being limited again, only by what I could see and know.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.