MY STORY
For a long time, I lived far away from myself.
As a teenager, I lacked confidence.
I was shy.
Full of fear.
Especially when it came to showing what I loved most — music.
I had dreams, but I didn’t believe I deserved them.
So I escaped.
Into parties.
Into alcohol.
Into noise — to silence my insecurity.
Only when I drank did I dare to sing.
At parties.
In karaoke bars.
In front of strangers.
Once, I even sang in front of a well-known music producer.
He gave me his business card.
Encouraged me.
I never called.
Fear was stronger than talent.
I left Germany and moved to Spain, hoping to find myself there.
I joined the army.
Told people I wasn’t looking for new friends.
In truth, I was looking for myself.
But the pattern followed me.
The parties continued.
The alcohol stayed.
And inside, the emptiness grew louder.
In 2005, I returned to Germany.
Nothing had changed — except that I felt even more lost.
In 2010, everything shifted.
I met my wife.
For the first time, I spoke openly about my fears.
My insecurity.
My feeling of never being enough.
I was at my breaking point.
She didn’t judge me.
She didn’t try to fix me.
She stayed.
She saved my life — not with words, but with love.
Together we built a family.
We were blessed with two children.
And when my son was born, something inside me woke up.
One day I realized:
I was teaching him how to survive —
but not how to live.
That moment stayed with me for years.
Three years ago, the thought became clear:
Something must change.
One year ago, it became real.
I stopped drinking alcohol.
I gave up sugar.
I began waking up early.
Training every morning.
Working on my body.
Working on my mind.
Working on my dream.
Not perfectly.
But consistently.
For the first time in my life, I chose responsibility over escape.
Music returned — not as a fantasy, but as a calling.
Not as a hobby, but as purpose.
Today, I stand on stage as myself.
Not hiding.
Not escaping.
Not pretending.
I sing Pop & Soul classics because they speak the language of emotion — love, loss, hope, vulnerability, truth.
My voice carries my story.
But more than that — it carries presence.
I don’t perform to impress.
I perform to connect.
My journey is not about fame.
It is about becoming the man my children can be proud of.
About showing that it is never too late to choose a new path.
That discipline can heal.
That honesty creates strength.
And that dreams don’t disappear — they wait.
Today, music is not my escape.
It is my expression.
And every stage I step on is a reminder of one simple truth:
You don’t need to be fearless.
You only need to be willing.