About Me — Jillian Somera

Artist trapped in a perpetual glass case of emotions

I was born many sunrises ago, at the crack of dawn, in the small city of Victoria, Texas.

Me with the fam already being a handful as a C-section baby

My earliest memory is playing and running around the backyard of my early childhood home, when I suddenly lose my footing, twisting my right ankle in an uncomfortable direction, somehow managing to press the side of the top of my right foot, just below my toes, into a tiny pebble.

In a way, you could say that I began my self-aware life with my first-ever epic failure and subsequent triumph over temporary pain, an unfortunate pattern that has continued, for better or for worse, as the years go on.

My brother holding baby me, fresh out of the hospital, in his lap

My mom doesn’t remember this ever happening. She’s convinced that this was all a dream; I would be inclined to feel the same way if it weren’t for the very prominent marking left by the impression of the supposed imaginary stone on the side of the top of my right foot, just below my toes.