I never seemed to fit into the script that everyone else seemed comfortable following. Wake up, go to school for 13 years, get a job, work until you’re old, retire, then die. Even as a kid, that path felt too small. Too robotic. Too predetermined. I remember sitting in class thinking. There has to be more to life than this cycle everyone accepts without questioning.

While other kids were focused on grades or fitting in, I was drawn to the things nobody around me was talking about: death, the afterlife, what happens when consciousness leaves the body, and why we’re here in the first place. I wasn’t trying to be “deep.” I was trying to understand why the world felt like it was hiding something.

By the time I was twelve, I had already begun reading about Mesopotamian history, ancient civilizations, and the earliest human ideas about life, death, and the soul. I didn’t know it then, but I was following the same thread that would eventually lead to everything I create now. I was looking for the cracks in the system, the places where the official story didn’t line up with what I felt internally.

That curiosity never went away. It grew. It sharpened. And eventually, it turned into the work I do today: breaking down the structures that shape people without their awareness, exposing the systems that drain their essence, and giving explanations to the questions most people have but never say out loud.

My work exists because I never stopped asking the questions I started asking as a kid. I never accepted the idea that life is just a loop of school, work, and death. I always felt there was something deeper going on, and now I’m finally putting words to it.