Free Museum-Quality Art Print

You Know Better.

You Still Sent The Text Anyway.

• You're emotionally intelligent and self-aware.
• You've done "the work."
• You can spot love-bombing from three dating apps away.
• You know your attachment style better than your social security number.

So why did you look at their Instagram profile at 3 AM before sending that text that was, in hindsight, rather embarrassing?

And most wall art only accepts the fake kind — the Live Laugh Love kind that pretends your complexity doesn't exist.

This doesn't.

You've Scrolled 47 Pages of Wall Art.

Nothing Looks Like Your Actual Life.

Everything falls into the same exhausting categories:

• Generic motivation that feels like gaslighting ("You've got this!" when you clearly don't)
• Mass-produced Target prints that everyone from your barista to your therapist already owns
• Beautiful but empty abstracts that match the couch but not the decade you've actually lived
• Instagram wisdom that sounds profound for exactly three seconds

Even the "unique" pieces have no voice. Nothing that actually understands what it's like to be brilliantly self-aware and still completely miscalculate someone.

Expert Reproduction on Fujicolor Crystal Archive Paper

Each print is produced on museum-grade stock rated for over 100 years before any fading. Individually numbered with official SKUs — not mass-produced posters.

A 30-Day, No-Questions-Asked Guarantee

Choose Your New Print

Print 01

"Contemporary Love Poem"

When empathy becomes an accurate indictment

Born from a text that arrived at 2:47 AM and was, unfortunately, completely accurate. This one is for anyone who's had the uncomfortable clarity of realizing it wasn't entirely the other person's fault — and sat with that long enough to turn it into something.

→ Order Print #1

Read the poem

About someone who never came back You've been that person before So you don't feel as bad Just embarrassed at how it's upset you — knowing full well If you were them, and they you: You'd have left their ass too.

Print 02

"Coastal Reverie"

The quiet piece

The collection's exhale — for when you've stopped arguing with something and started living near it instead. The ocean as a holding container for what you've decided to stop chasing.

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Read the poem

The ocean collects the thoughts I've tried so hard to cast away They return with the evening tide More beautiful in their decay. I sit and count the ways we'd fit Between waves that never came Dreamy little deaths at dusk Where memory blurs into grain. Perhaps in some adjacent life Fingers trace salt-kissed skin For now I've learned to love Ghosts I'll never see again.

Print 03

"Be A Snob"

Permission for a full and complicated life

A manifesto. For doing whatever you want while trying not to hurt people. Messy and specific and completely unapologetic about it. (The original title was something else. It wasn't hitting right on a poster.)

→ Order Print #3

Read the poem

Date a pornstar. Or two. Or three (not four, though, that fourth one may kill you, trust me; plus, by that point you should know better). Write a book. Fall in love. Get hurt, or hurt someone else—not on purpose though. Reconnect with your middle school teacher and sleep with them. Or don't, actually. I did (I wrote about it in the aforementioned book), and I regret it. Make sure to appreciate your friends. Especially those that help you navigate ethical quandaries, such as whether or not sleeping with a teacher from childhood is okay. Because I'm really not sure if it is, but I question myself more than most. Am I crazy? Am I wrong? Am I bad? I ask these questions a lot. This is why I love my friends: because they remind me I am not crazy or bad when life happens. Or, they tell me if I am the crazy one, or if I am being bad. Perhaps I'm making too big a deal out of the whole affair. Who knows? People are weird. We're all just a bunch of neurotic messes with unresolved issues in our lives. Maybe my former teacher was looking for an escape. We all need to do that from time to time. So go to Disneyland, bb, or buy that plane ticket, or play that video game. And if you write about your sexual encounters with former teachers, change the details so you don't get sued. Also, read books. Eat cheesecake (vegan/keto/paleo/whatever). Be a slut.* Do whatever you want. Just try not to hurt people, and take care of yourself. *"Be A Slut" was the original name of this piece, but as a title on a poster design like this, it just wasn't hitting right.

Print 04

"You Don't Know Me"

The weight of empty words vs. filtered truth

Made during one of de la Guerra's darker periods. The question underneath it: which words carry more weight — the empty ones from people we've become attached to, or truth as filtered through our own biases? (Spoiler: neither wins cleanly.)

→ Order Print #4

Read the poem

Empty words we indulge in can fill up the holes We went and shoveled out all on our own It's honesty's faithful cloth which is composed Of those that break our hearts and our bones Words we feel don't always speak in truths Colored by fallacious tales we never outgrew Lies are like chemicals we choose to abuse My favorite is thinking you felt what I did, too

Print 05

"Ideal Headspace"

The fantasy of mental quiet

"A brain drenched in black paint to help subdue the thoughts of each day." Not a dream of peace. A dream of silence. This piece knows the difference, and so do you.

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Read the poem

A brain drenched in black paint to help subdue the thoughts of each day; Thick enough to keep the raucous populace of my mind mute and at bay This is the fantasy I keep to myself when asked about dreams and ambitions; To wake up and live without having to think, I imagine, must be what bliss is.

Print 06

"I Put the 'Style' in Attachment Style"

Pop psychology meets actual self-awareness

For everyone who's done the reading, integrated the framework, and still eye-rolled watching someone use it to avoid the actual work. This piece lives in that specific tension — and doesn't resolve it, because that's not what it's for.

→ Order Print #6

Read the poem

Everyone's an expert; on why they love the way they do. Condemning the Anxious and/or Avoidant; like confetti at their own review. All they need is "the book"; a place for their behaviours to call home. Inside predetermined patterns; they recite pop-psyche phrases as their own. Yes, there's truth in understanding; how childhood shapes our ways. But parroting platitudes as a crutch; doesn't make the trauma fade. We're all just trying to sort ourselves; into boxes neat and clean. As if humans could be catalogued; like posts in a Pinterest stream. Call me a fearful-preoccupied-avoidant; or whatever helps you sleep. But knowing what to call your walls; doesn't help you learn to leap. So, hold your attachment style close; else the mind's nuance be exposed. And beyond what any label can connote; are worlds more than Bowlby even knows.

One Last Thing

Here's what I didn't mention earlier about that text.

After I read it, I responded. (Don't.) We had a long, circular phone conversation that went until around 4:15 in the morning. (Really don't.) Then I blocked the number, which I should have done approximately four months prior, and sat there staring at my phone until the screen went dark.

Then I made a print out of it.

Not because making art out of something makes it hurt less. It doesn't. But that specific sentence — "you only loved me when I'd vanish" — deserved to exist somewhere other than a screenshot folder I'd eventually delete. So it went on a wall instead.

That's the logic behind this entire collection.

Not transformation. Not healing in a straight line. Just: this happened, it was specific, and specific things told honestly tend to be useful to someone else eventually.

If that's you — you know which print to pick.