I’m an artist. Always have been, always will be. Ok. Let’s try that again. I’m trying to be an artist. I’m struggling, trying to survive with barely enough food. I’m 24 and miserable. All I have is apartment C5 in White Rows Apartments. Oh, and I have my own studio, I rent a garage out from this big warehouse. I practically live in my studio more than my own house. My studio is my life, it's where I make my life. Art. Art. Art.

I'm so limited. My family limits me to the confinement of our house, or, mansion. I'm 22 and I hate my life. My mother is Gina Hadenzo, a supreme court judge. Of course, they expect me to be some magical girl who's completely innocent. I'm not. I'm not at all. I honestly kind of wish I was. I've been in love. For too long, 2 years. But I haven't told him, because other than one conversation with him, it's been nothing. And plus, my parents would hate him. So much. He's nowhere "close" to us. I just want to love who I love.