This isn't a band.
This isn't a brand.
This is everything I never got to say.
Every breakdown I formatted into something listenable.
Every silence I filled with something that hurt less than the truth.
I called it format
because that's what I kept doing —
to myself,
to my inner voice,
to what I was supposed to be.
The songs don’t try to save you.
They don’t try to save me either.
They just hold still long enough to let something out.
I use AI to shape these pieces into spoken words —
because I’m not strong enough to say them out loud myself.
Maybe it's also because it's up to me to say these things out loud.
I moved on.
I left my past self back there — alone in the void.
Maybe I needed something that doesn’t suffer from the words.
Because all of them combined
might trigger emotions I buried too deep.
Even if the voice isn’t human,
the emotions and thoughts behind these songs are.
So what you hear isn’t artificial —
it’s the real me,
screaming from the past.
To compose.
To echo what I couldn’t finish alone.
It’s not a shortcut.
It’s not impressive.
It doesn’t have to be.
It’s just another way to survive something
without breaking everything else in the process.
The songs aren’t explained.
Because I can’t explain them.
They dragged themselves up to the surface
and now they’re trying to breathe.
Either you connect to them —
or you don’t.
Both are fine.
If you're here,
you're probably carrying something yourself.
So am I.
Maybe this helps.
Maybe it doesn’t.
It’s not that I don’t care —
but it’s totally okay either way.