Frazzled, Fried, and Lost is a lived version of clarity after the exhaustion, the grief, immeasurable losses, and the road of recovery of self — all happening at the same time, in real time.

The title track is about almost not making it back — then the guilt of actually surviving what so many artists, like myself, did not survive, such as Amy Winehouse, Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, and many more heroes like them, who wrote and sang their truth, but whose disease took them anyway.

I honour those voices of the past in the present, the here and now — a space I once lived in, between then and now, where I was standing after everything felt scorched: being burned to the ground, rising again, only to be burned down once again. Defeated.

My choices amputated from me, but with the stigma that somehow I still had choice. My lyrics, my melody, have brought back into light the power returning my choice. I choose life today — life no longer chooses me.

This album isn’t trying to fix anything. It names what it feels like to keep going when you’re worn thin, overstimulated, uncertain, and still alive. Some days are reflective, some are blunt, some barely hold together — because that’s what real days sound like.

No polish. No pretending. Just honesty from a place where survival quietly turns into self-respect.

That’s Frazzled, Fried, and Lost.