Happiness

Before my body changed and disability redefined my physical world, my sanctuary was a packed, sweaty dancefloor at 3:00 AM. Moving to the bass until dawn was the only time I felt entirely free from the rigid boxes society tries to force us into. This painting, Happiness, is my inner mind bleeding onto the canvas—a vibrant, glowing monument to those wild neon nights and a fierce declaration that while my physical limits have changed, my spirit remains completely unboxed.

The music didn’t just play back then; it shook the floorboards and took root deep inside my chest. It was 3:00 AM in a packed, sweaty club, the air heavy with neon light, alcohol, and weed. In that room, the world evaporated. For a few golden hours every weekend through my twenties and thirties, I wasn’t who society told me to be. I was a living, breathing pulse, dancing my arse off until dawn.

That dancefloor was my sanctuary from the rigid boxes the world tries to force us into.

Years later, my body changed. I am disabled now, and I cannot dance in those crowded rooms anymore. But the fire inside me never left. I stood before a canvas, picked up a brush, and let that beautiful, chaotic chapter bleed out into colour.

I painted my inner mind exactly as it feels—messy, complicated, and exploding with raw energy. I mapped out the sharp, vertical lines of society that try to restrict us. And right there, caught in the crossfire, I am that dark, imperfect circle, bouncing violently in my inner mind like a ball in a block-breaker game, smashing into those rigid social barriers of stereotyping, and using the canvas to verbalize a unique experience my body can no longer physically live.

This painting is a living extension of me. Even if I am sitting still, I am still ricocheting, shattering preconceptions, and feeling the rhythm in my soul. I left my edges rough and unfinished because I refuse to let the world smooth me down or count me out. I am still shifting. I am still growing.

To bring the night back to life, I layered the canvas with UV paint and sharp, pop-like marks—visual echoes of flashing strobe lights and pounding bass. When the light hits the canvas, it glows with the exact magic of those 4:00 AM mornings when the music drowned out everything else.

I titled it Happiness.

It is a monument to my survival and my freedom. My body may be confined by new limits, but my inner world remains vibrant, unboxed, and wonderfully loud. The world will always try to draw lines around us, but they can never truly capture the spirit of who we are.