Music has always been part of my life.
Growing up, there was almost always a radio playing somewhere—in the house, in the car, or in the background of everyday life. My parents were both musically talented, and although neither pursued those talents very far, their love of music became part of the environment I grew up in. Between the music at home, local gigs, and get-togethers filled with songs, music was never something distant from me. It was simply part of life.
I started singing in school chorus in sixth grade and continued through high school. I began learning guitar when I was thirteen, although the desire to create had started even earlier. Before I knew how to turn melodies into songs, I was writing poetry. Eventually, those words found a new home in songwriting.
What started as a love of music became something more personal: a way to express the things I didn't always know how to talk about.
That's where Not So Simple comes in.
Some feelings are difficult to explain. Some experiences are hard to revisit. And sometimes, even when you want someone to understand what you're going through, finding the words to say it out loud feels impossible.
For me, songwriting has always offered another way.
Not So Simple is where those thoughts, experiences, frustrations, memories, and questions find a voice. It's a place to work through the complicated parts of life, make sense of things that don't always make sense, and turn personal experiences into something that might mean something to somebody else.
I don't believe every song needs to offer a solution. Sometimes, it's enough to know that someone else has felt something similar. Sometimes, hearing your own thoughts reflected in someone else's words makes you feel a little less alone.
My experiences are my own, but the feelings behind them aren't necessarily unique to me. Heartbreak, regret, growing up, uncertainty, resilience, and the struggle to understand ourselves are things many of us carry in different ways.
If something I've written helps someone put a feeling into words, see an experience differently, or simply feel understood for a few minutes, then the song has become something bigger than my own story.
That's what I want this music to do.
Making Music on My Own Terms
Not So Simple is also about having the freedom to create without waiting for permission.
I've always known that making music was something I wanted to pursue. Building a project of my own gave me the opportunity to take responsibility for that dream—to make my own creative decisions, follow ideas where they lead, and build something that reflects who I am as a songwriter and artist.
I appreciate what comes from playing music with other people, and I still value the energy, chemistry, and shared experience of being in a band. There's something special about creating music together that you can't entirely recreate on your own.
But having a project of my own gives me a different kind of freedom. The songs, the direction, the decisions, and the vision belong to me. I can experiment, make mistakes, change direction, and figure things out as I go.
I'm not interested in pretending the process is perfect. I'm interested in making something honest.
Not So Simple isn't about chasing whatever happens to be popular or trying to fit neatly into somebody else's expectations. It's about creating music that feels genuine, even when it's messy, imperfect, or uncomfortable.
Because the things that matter most aren't always simple.
Built around guitar-driven alternative rock, melodic pop-punk influences, and emotionally honest songwriting, Not So Simple brings together memorable melodies, reflective lyrics, and moments of both energy and vulnerability.
The songs draw from different experiences and stages of life. Some look back at the people and moments that shaped us. Others explore relationships, mistakes, personal struggles, and the determination to keep moving forward.
The sound may change from song to song, but the intention stays the same: to take something real and turn it into something people can feel.
I write, record, and develop my music independently, learning and refining the process along the way. Every release is another opportunity to explore an idea, tell a story, and get a little closer to the sound I'm trying to create.
There is always more to learn, and there is always another song to write.
At the end of the day, I don't expect everyone to relate to every song. We all have different histories, different struggles, and different ways of understanding the world.
But I believe there's something universal in being human—in wanting to be understood, in looking back on who we used to be, in trying to become someone we're proud of, and in carrying things we don't always share with others.
My songs begin with my experiences, but they're not meant to end there.
They're yours to interpret, connect with, and take something from. Maybe a lyric reminds you of someone. Maybe a melody takes you back to a time in your life you'd almost forgotten. Maybe a song helps you understand something you've been feeling but haven't been able to explain.
Or maybe it just gives you something to turn up loud when you need it.
Whatever you find in the music, I hope you find something real.
This project is still growing. I'm still learning, still writing, and still figuring things out. I don't have every answer, and I don't think I need to.
I just want to keep making music that means something.
For the feelings we struggle to explain.
For the stories we carry.
For the things we hide behind the words we say.
The Sound Of What We Hide.