To those of you who don’t know me well enough, I say this: My name is Cristian Mihai. I’m 26 years old. And I have been writing for fourteen years.
I make art. I aspire to make beauty.
I wrote because I was broken, fel alone, different, too weak to even matter in a big and cruel world.
It made me feel less awful.
It made me feel as if I was kind of good at something.
Isn’t this what truly matters? How you’d define passion? To be kind of glad you’re kind of good at something.
I hoped a lot during my teenage years. And hope alone carried me and kept me going when all I wanted was to give up.
Good days and bad days, some awful days, some “I don’t want to live anymore days.” Some of the days when you don’t have the guts to keep…
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