Quotes

I use the camera like it's another character in the story.

I've been living with excruciating chronic pain in my right hand from severe arthritis since I was 18. The thought of a pain-free life feels like a distant dream, so distant that I've almost forgotten what it feels like to be free from discomfort. If I were to experience even a moment without pain, it would feel strange.

I'm too strong-minded as a filmmaker to ever make a movie without total creative control or final cut. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. It's like bringing a child into this world; if I don't feel that he or she is a hundred percent part of me, then maybe I shouldn't have brought them here at all. Let's just save everyone the grief.

My sole focus is the act of creation itself, not the applause that may or may not follow. I've worked immensely hard to reach a place where I don't allow the ego's craving for external validation to hijack my creative intent. To me, that unhealthy craving is rooted in desire, which is a source of suffering. I'm constantly putting myself in check to ensure I set my heart on nothing but perennial serenity. I don't care for what the quintessential being considers proof of being a winner. I don't identify with those qualities, not in the slightest. I admit I did when I was young and naive, conditioned by society. It took a lot of self-reflection to thoroughly purge that notion from my psyche. It feels like I went on a long journey to reach a place I thought I had to go, only to realize it's the place I've always been. I live an authentic life, and to me, that is the pinnacle of success. Yeah, I'd love for the myriad of screenplays in my repository to come to fruition, not for the recognition it might bring, but because I find fulfillment in doing something difficult. And if the movies never happen, that's totally fine too. This isn't to say I'm apathetic or passive; I'm intrinsically proactive, but I also gracefully embrace whatever the universe gives me, allowing life to unfold naturally without too much meddling. To put it simply, I'm not desperate.

I'm intrinsically drawn to actors who don't play it safe. This isn't to say that those who do are invalid; we all have our preferences, it's part of our natural makeup. What floats my boat might sink someone else's, but I yearn to collaborate with the uninhibited, the intense, and the gritty thespians. The art that moves me pokes at you like a stubborn pebble in your boot. You know, the disruptive pieces that challenge you. I want to create alongside those unafraid to be uncomfortable. There are countless actors with depth waiting to be tapped, yet many hesitate to explore, prioritizing career stability or mainstream acceptance. There's nothing wrong with that if that's what you're after. Many performers gravitate toward roles with clear pathways to success, and the unorthodox, thought-provoking material I create might not fit that mold, and that's perfectly fine. Everyone is free to pursue what they want out of life. Yet, it's a shame when talent remains untapped due to perceived risk; this is a reality in an industry that often prioritizes marketability over artistry. I hold vulnerability in high regard and admire the unrestricted dreamers for their courage. It's not easy to wear your heart on your face. And to the overly cautious creators: you do know you're going to be dead one day, right? I mention this not to scare you, but to remind you not to take anything too seriously. Life, my dear, is impermanent.

I may never make it - and that's okay. I spoke my truth, even if the wind scattered my words before they reached a crowd. That doesn't change the fact that I still spoke. I carved the words. I burned the breath. The silence that followed wasn't cruelty - it was the world simply doing what it does: moving on. That's not my failure. And it's not their fault. It just is. And I just am.

I didn't choose madness. It chose me. At twenty, it ambushed my mind - creeping in like fog, stealing my reflection. I wasn't eccentric. I was unraveling. And no one knew what to do with unraveling. So they left. Ninety-nine percent of them. Friends, family, anyone who once smiled at me. Gone. Vanished like compassion had an expiration date. Their reasons? Valid - to them. My behavior scared them. Triggered something ancient and buried. But here's the question: if the universe had handed them this illness, this fracturing of self - would they have stood tall? Or would they have collapsed, same as me? Most people would rather call you crazy than confront the fact that their empathy has limits. So they labeled me. Wrote me off. Exiled me. I wore that scarlet letter until it blistered. And after years of silence, something broke - or maybe bloomed. I stopped trying to explain. For three years, I became the villain they already imagined. Not out of malice. Out of strategy. If I was going to be hated for something I didn't choose, then fine - let me give them a reason. Let me curate the myth. That's not self-destruction. That's reclamation. If you're going to burn me anyway, let me light the match. They saw a monster, so I gave them one. But underneath the mask? I was screaming. Quietly. Violently. And no one came. Not a soul. So I stayed in the abyss. Long enough to know its temperature. Long enough to become its keeper. The dark doesn't scare me anymore. It's where I built my home. I've lost everything. Reputation. Belongings. People. Mind. Again and again. But here's what survived: Me. Not only a better version. But the true one. Battered. Burned. Reassembled. I'm not better than them - but I wouldn't trade places for a second. They taught me exactly what I never want to be. For that, I thank them. I forgive them. And I hope they forgive me. But don't mistake that for an open door. My heart may be open, but it's guarded. What I practice is holy distance - close enough to radiate compassion, far enough to protect my soul. I'm not antisocial. I'm anti-illusion. I root for everyone - even the ones who watched me break and looked away. Even the ones who mistook my illness for character. Even the ones who couldn't love me when I needed it most. That's not sainthood. That's survival. That's mudita - the kind that hurts and heals at the same time. I am a chronically happy man. Sincerely. But I'll never forget how deeply this world failed me. And still - I root for it. From a distance. With clarity. With teeth.