My musical journey began where many things do: in a moment of chaos. I was eight, my parents were separating, and I was adrift. Then, in a church, I was anchored by the soaring melodies of hymns. Music became my first sanctuary.

A guitar found its way into my hands on a camping trip, and I was hooked. That spark led to church performances, leading worship for thousands at youth conferences, and constant creation. But a voice of self-doubt kept my original songs hidden, convincing me they weren't good enough.

In college, self-expression intensified, but so did financial pressure. Holding down three jobs wasn't enough, forcing me to drop out. I kept the music alive in dive bars and open mics until a final two-hour set at a Koffee Klatch. It was an emotional farewell; I knew I was choosing survival over my passion.

A full decade of silence followed. I built pipelines, managed teams, and turned chaos into clarity for other people's visions, leaving the audio hardware untouched.

I reconnected with my brother, a pro in music production, who taught me FL Studio. The old spark reignited into a blaze. After wrestling with unfinished projects, frustration took over. In a three-hour burst, 'Hey!' was born. Seventy-two hours later, it was streaming. I was an official artist.

That first album was built on samples, but I didn't care. It wasn't about a perfect debut; it was about breaking a decade of silence. It was about proving to myself that the creator in me hadn't died, he had just been waiting. This isn't about chasing fame. This is the sound of me reclaiming my voice. I'm no longer just covering songs for a perfect take; I'm a recording artist, building my story, one track at a time.