A Love Letter to the World: See me, Feel me, Remember me…..

Will you remember me? That’s the question I find myself whispering to the universe, over and over again. Will the work I leave behind echo in your hearts? Will the art I poured my soul into resonate with you after I’m gone? Will the words I wrote with trembling hands stay with you?

I am not asking for fame. I am not asking for riches. What I am asking for—pleading for—is connection. To be seen. To be felt. To matter.

I have spent my life chasing love, both as an experience and as a legacy. Every stroke of paint has been an act of longing. Every word on the page has been a prayer to the world. Every photograph I’ve taken pleads for the world to see me as I truly am. It’s not just art. It’s my heart laid bare. It’s my voice calling out into the vast expanse of time. I hope that someone, somewhere, will answer.

There were moments when I thought I had found love, but they slipped through my fingers like sand. There were times I thought the camera could capture the world for me, but it became a barrier instead. And when love evaded me, I turned to art—to creation—as my sanctuary. I drowned myself in it, desperate to transform the ache in my chest into something beautiful. And in doing so, I hoped that the beauty I created would touch someone, anyone, and leave an indelible mark.

But here’s the truth: my longing never left me. Every canvas I filled, every photograph I distorted, every word I wrote was a cry into the void. A part of me wonders if all this effort—this frantic attempt to immortalize myself—will be enough.

I’ve given so much of myself to my work. I’ve burned through sleepless nights, exchanged meals for minutes with a paintbrush, and poured my aching heart into every creation. I’ve taken the silence of the camera, and the stillness of the studio, and made it sing with color and sound.

I’ve endured surgeries that stopped my heart. They slowed my mind. After these experiences, I woke with a sharper appreciation for life’s fleeting beauty.

And yet, even with the gifts that pain has given me, I remain a prisoner of my own longing. Longing for love. Longing to be remembered. Longing to know that what I’ve created will outlast me.

So here I am, asking you:?Will you see me??Will you look past the noise of the world and the endless distractions? Will you notice the pieces of myself I’ve left behind? Will you let my art, my words, my story take root in your heart?

I am not perfect, but I am authentic. Everything I’ve created comes from the deepest, most honest parts of me. My work is not an escape; it’s an offering. A part of me hopes that my story—the obsession, the heartbreak, the relentless pursuit of meaning—will resonate with you. I want you to see yourself in it and feel less alone.

But more than anything, I hope you’ll remember me. Not for fame, not for wealth, but for the humanity in my work. I hope you’ll carry a piece of it with you. It could be a word, a color, or a moment. Let it live on in the quiet spaces of your life.

This is my love letter to you, the world. It’s messy, vulnerable, and aching, but it’s real. It’s everything I have to give.

Please don’t let me disappear into the ether of time. Recognize me now, while I am still here. Let me know that my life, my art, my love has mattered. Let me know that I have been seen.

With Love,

John