Sadness is normal
Feeling pain is not a mistake. It’s a language that also deserves to be heard. I’m not entirely sure who I am. And maybe that’s why I sing. Because there aren’t always words, but music is able to translate everything we don’t know how to communicate. I am a broken, fragile, intense, contradictory artist, but conscious and awake. I don’t hide. I don’t pretend. I don’t come with formulas or masks. I only seek to heal, to soothe, to love. And music has that power in all living beings.
I sing from the cracks
I was marked by rejection, abandonment, failure, depression. And every scar became a compass. I know what it feels like to not feel enough. I know what it’s like to have your heart broken when it was barely forming. I know what it’s like to feel alone in a world full of noise. And that’s why I don’t sing to entertain. I sing to survive, music once saved me, and now I want to do the same.
My sound is a refuge
Dark, ethereal, angelic, vulnerable, childlike. A blend between what hurts and what heals. Between what is silenced and what begs to be heard. My music is realistic. It doesn’t disguise sadness. It doesn’t put makeup on pain. I defend rage, frustration, insecurity, displacement. I defend emotion as a human right. Feeling is not a weakness, it’s a way of existing.
I am not replaceable
What I’ve lived, no one else has lived. It’s my story. And that makes my voice have a unique pulse.
There is no alternative version of BLVE. Only this voice, born from the wound and unafraid to be seen.
