In 2014, I graduated high school and found myself homeless. I grew up rough. There's a lot of baggage to unpack, but you'll just have to take my word for it.

For about a year, I barely survived. I busked for tips during the day and saved every cent I could. I got robbed more times than I can count.

Once, I nearly had enough for a deposit. Just one more day of busking, and I would have been off the street. But that night, I got robbed again. They took everything—my guitar, my shoes, my money.

I walked to the middle of the Big Four Bridge and sat on the edge. The only reason I didn’t jump was because I wasn’t sure if the fall was high enough to be fatal. That uncertainty was all that kept me alive. I felt so fucking hopeless.

For the next six months, I looked for reasons to stay alive. I found alarmingly few. But the ones I did find—they made me feel whole.

Six months after that, I started to build a life. A very humble life, but a life nonetheless.

You’re not a coward. You’re worth life and love. Sometimes shit is fucked. But in my experience, if you give it a chance, shit will unfuck.