I always wondered if I told my life’s story, if anyone would believe me. No one believes the boy who cried wolf, if he cries too much. Even if there was a coyote, dog, or fox every time.

“Girl, you won’t believe what’s goin on.”

“Life is just kickin my ass right now.”

“I’m gonna laugh about it because if I don’t, I’mma cry.”

Many of my conversations lately have started this way, and when I say lately, I mean for the past twenty years. I am, unfortunately, the “crisis” friend. From romance, to health, to home stability – you name it – drama seems to plague me and it has since birth. Honestly, pre-birth if we’re really going there, but that’s an epigenetics or spiritual conversation for another time.

In the Beginning…There was Writing

I was inspired by reading and writing at a young age – enchanted by the adventures to far off lands amidst home-grown chaos. I found myself in love with books of all kinds and dreaming of being an adventure guide – author edition.

I love to indulge in fantasy created by others, but as for myself and my pen, we prefer honest story-telling. I wanted to capture my audience with reality stained in desperate truth.

In high-school I learned about unreliable narrators. I recall thinking I would end up like that because my memory was already shot at 16.

Is the story still compelling when the truth is wrapped in menthol cigarette smoke and adrenaline?

The absurd and grotesque, the blissful and beautiful moments of my life have at times, felt like an out of body experience. How could I explain that at 16? With what vocabulary?

Anyway, because I doubted my memory as a teen, I inadvertently became an avid writer. I journal my stories, scribble my memories, brain dump my theories, and yap to anyone who would be a captive audience. I desperately want to remember who I am, who I have been, and how I’ve lived.

This is of grave importance to me.

In my twenties, I learned that of my siblings, who grew up in the same home as me, I am the only one who remembers our childhood. It is my burden to bear and story to tell.

I also found that when you can’t recall the exact specifics and no one can corroborate your story, people tend to doubt your sincerity and authenticity. If too many terrible things happen, you’re the problem.

Listen, the life I’ve lived… I can’t make this shit up. As I unravel my story, ask yourself, who would want to make this shit up about themselves anyway?

I’ve spent years trying to convince myself that my life is actually “normal” and “mundane”. That I’m being dramatic and overreacting like everyone says.

Yet, time and time again I find myself enchanting my friends with life stories. Those conversations always ends with, “You should have your own show! You should write a book!” Those words would ring in my head – chiming like different bells in human form.

Can I find the art and beauty even in my chaotic life?

In the Present…It’s Showtime

I’m Z. Nova. Pleasure to virtually meet you. Welcome to my specially curated show. Well, this isn’t exactly a “show” per se, but you are here watching me in a way, aren’t you? Whatever the case, I hope you’re here to kick back, be entertained, and learn to love the tragic mess that is life through my senses.

I’ll be your host, your narrator, your chef, and your adventure guide.

On this adventure, I’ll show you my life and my memories in my way. I’ll tell you about my grandmother while sharing my take on her famous eggnog recipe. I’ll paint you the worst heartbreak I’ve ever felt. I’ll sing the song that was playing when I realized I was in love.

Am I the best singer/painter/chef ? Chile, no. I’m wildly imperfect and prone to making mistakes early and often. I’m human. In this safe space, my mistakes are transformed into stories with unfinished edges and digestible lessons.

I don’t need to be 100% reliable to be 100% real.

In my experience memories are often more feeling than fact anyway. The raw, honesty of human imperfection is what makes the most compelling story. Wouldn’t you agree?

In showing you my naked truth, I hope you are inspired toward authenticity in a world focused on who can lie “better”.

Ultimately, on the question of whether or not you believe me, the truth is, it doesn’t matter to me. My voice and my story are meant to be shared. I’m not ashamed of who I’ve been in my worst or best moments. I want to love all versions of me with full acceptance and accountability. I want you, my reader, to love yourself that deeply too.

So if by chance, my raw truth inspires you, please stick around and join me on this journey. Let’s laugh, cry, and grow together in community. But only if you believe the boy who cries wolf. Even if it’s not a wolf every time.

Z. Nova – 2025