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Talk Nice Supply Co., Lake Wales, FL (2026)

06/01/2026

“To Run forever if ya never let it end.”

I painted those words on a piece inspired by the music of Tyler Childers almost four years ago. At the time, I thought they were beautiful lyrics. I thought they represented freedom, adventure, chasing the next story, the next town, the next feeling.
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I never realized how much those words would come to mirror my own life.

For years, I lived like the road would never end. Always moving. Always chasing. Always finding another distraction, another party, another reason not to sit alone with myself. I ran so hard and so fast that I convinced myself I was living. Looking back now, I think I was just trying not to feel.
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Addiction has a way of doing that. So does chaos. It keeps you busy enough that you never have to stop and ask yourself the hard questions. You never have to face the things you’ve lost, the people you’ve hurt, or the parts of yourself you’ve abandoned along the way.

Eventually, though, the music gets quieter. The crowds go home. The distractions stop working. And you’re left standing in the middle of the life you’ve built, looking around at the wreckage and wondering how you got there.
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That’s where I find myself now.

Not at the end of the road—but at a crossroads.

Trying to figure out who I am when the noise is gone. Trying to separate the real me from the survival version of me. Trying to learn what I actually love, what I actually believe, and what kind of life I want when I’m no longer running from myself.
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It’s uncomfortable. Some days it’s heartbreaking. Some days I don’t recognize the person staring back at me.

But maybe that’s the point.

Maybe the road isn’t meant to go on forever.
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Maybe sometimes the bravest thing you can do is let it end.

Let the old habits end. Let the addictions end. Let the versions of yourself that were built from pain and survival finally rest.

Because you can’t discover who you are while you’re still running from yourself.

And for the first time in a very long time, I’m standing still long enough to find out who that person might be.

— Sage
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Photography by

05/25/2026

Today isn’t just “a Monday off” to me.

People throw around freedom like it was free.
Like it just appeared here.
It didn’t.
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It was bought with fear, blood, trauma, funerals, missing limbs, nightmares, survivor’s guilt, and caskets covered in American flags.

There are men and women who were barely old enough to understand life itself, yet still chose to stand in front of danger so the rest of us could wake up safely, complain freely, love freely, and live normally. Some came home forever changed. Some never came home at all.
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And the truth is… society forgets them too easily.
The military gets shoved under the rug until it’s convenient to remember them for a holiday post and a beer sale. Meanwhile there are veterans silently fighting battles long after the war ended — physically, mentally, emotionally.

So no, today isn’t just a day off.
Today is for the people who sacrificed their entire future so YOU could have one.
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And if you’ve never served, never fought, never buried brothers beside you, never watched war change a human being forever — but still lie and pretend you did for attention? That’s one of the most disgusting things a person can do. Stolen valor isn’t “cool.” It’s spitting on the graves of people who actually paid the price. You don’t get to wear someone else’s pain like a costume.

Some people gave their lives for this country.
The least we can do is remember their names with honesty and respect.

— Sage
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Photography by

05/24/2026

There was always something about The Dark Knight that stayed with me long after the credits rolled. I think I was around 12 the first time I really watched it. And somehow, out of every character in that film, it was the Joker that I understood the most.

Not because he was the villain.
But because Heath Ledger played him in a way that made him feel painfully human.
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He didn’t act like a cartoon villain. He acted like a man who had been failed over and over again until there was nothing left inside him except chaos. You could see it in his eyes — the exhaustion, the bitterness, the desperation to make the world feel even a fraction of the pain he carried. Gotham didn’t create a monster overnight. It neglected someone slowly. It ignored him. It let him rot in plain sight until destruction became the only language he knew how to speak.

And that’s what made his character so unsettling to me.
Because underneath the makeup and the violence was still a person. A hurting one. A forgotten one.

Like if society insisted on treating life like a joke, then he would become the punchline they could never escape.
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Heath Ledger made viewers sit with the uncomfortable truth that pain doesn’t always look soft and sad. Sometimes it becomes anger. Sometimes it becomes someone so emotionally starved for meaning that they would rather burn everything down than continue feeling invisible.

At 12 years old, I don’t think I fully understood why I connected to him so much. Now that I’m older, I realize it’s because his character carried the kind of loneliness that makes you stop believing anyone is coming to save you.
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The Joker wasn’t born evil to me. He felt like proof of what can happen when someone loses faith in humanity completely. A man who once may have wanted love, connection, understanding. But after enough pain, enough neglect, he let the darkness consume him because it was easier than hoping anymore.

And maybe that’s what made him terrifying.
Somewhere underneath all the chaos, he was still painfully human.

— Sage
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Photography by

05/20/2026

Some people hear A Country Boy Can Survive and think it’s just another country song.

But for some of us…
It feels like remembering the people that raised you before the world got so cold.
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I hear that song and I think about the kind of people who kept going because there wasn’t another option.
The ones who worked through injuries, heartbreak, funerals, exhaustion, and fear because the lights still had to stay on and mouths still had to be fed.

Wrinkled hands gripping steering wheels.
The smell of ci******es on jackets hanging by the door.
While somebody cooked enough food for anyone who needed a seat at the table.
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“No strangers” wasn’t something we said.
It’s how we lived.

People showed up for each other.
Even when they had nothing.

Especially when they had nothing.
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I think that’s why this song hurts so bad now.
Because the world moves differently these days.
Everybody is connected but nobody really knows each other anymore.
People don’t knock on doors.
Families drift apart.
Hard work gets laughed at.
And kindness is treated like weakness.

But I remember where I came from.
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I remember being raised by people who believed you adapt and overcome even when life is cruel to you.
People who worked harder instead of complaining louder.
People who partied hard because they understood how fragile life actually is.
People who carried grief and still managed to make everyone around them feel safe.

That generation loved differently.
Not always softly.
But deeply.

Because one day you wake up and realize the people who made your childhood feel invincible are getting older.
The trucks rust.
The family land gets sold.
The voices you grew up hearing slowly disappear one by one.

And suddenly a song becomes proof that it all really happened.
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Proof that there once was a world where people meant what they said.
Where neighbors became family.

I hear this song…
I hear sacrifice.
I hear the little kid in me realizing how hard the adults around me were fighting just to make life feel normal.

And they made it look so easy when it never was.

— 𝚂𝚊𝚐𝚎
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Lake Wales, FL
33800-33898

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