If I were to write my autobiography, The Strangler’s « Golden Brown » sweet refrain would immediately come to my mind as an opening sentence. I am of Mediterranean Spanish decent and my skin turns golden in the summer. My dad’s all year. We never argue, and I never feel mad when I can enjoy the sea, the sandy colour, and like the author, a hit of heroin. Never a frown, I will be found making music, poetry, texts. But it’s not necessarily a good thing. You need get mad sometimes. I am someone who gets mad easily. I just stop when I take too much, stop doing anything, stop doing a fuss because I am just sleeping my life away, everyday. In the end, there’s not only never a frown, but never a sound. It almost took my life. I could have went from looking for peace, to resting in peace.

The fact it plays such a huge part in my creative world right now, but also my life – some person even denying me my dying experience because I am still alive, the audacity! – I feel it would be a good start for an autobiography. It started a fair share or arguing, crying, lying, and family trauma. I’m just getting over it, and I did not quite finish the process, so if it were to start now, I would start with this, and explain how the lack of care for my mental health and late neurodivergency diagnosis as well as late disability acknowledgement played a huge part in having to find peace in the brown sands. And while it’s not every addict story, I know a fair share of autistic and adhd (audhd) people who ended up facing life threatening addiction behaviour because getting care is even more tiring than suffering the consequences of being left to deal with it in the wild.