A Cemetery of Words

January 29, 2026

“Writing Into the Void”

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Today, I don’t want to write because I don’t get it. I started writing at first as journal entries just for me. Then one day I got the bright idea to put it online. Why? Because I thought it made sense—because it would give me a reason to continue to write.

So I kept on writing. There was no motivation except to make it into a habit. After a while I started thinking: could this be something? I still don’t know if it is. It’s just a dude in a garage journaling his day and thoughts… and sometimes my thoughts aren’t just hey I’m hungry.

Am I special for writing, or attempting, or posting? No. No, I am not.

After a while of writing I’ve been thinking: should I stop? Why continue writing into the void? Does anyone find anything in this cemetery of words—resurrecting past moments at points, and in others just connecting patterns during my day?

Here I reveal not only my thoughts, but in a public forum where no one will ever know me in person, I get to just say things without filter.

I hate people that park in the middle of the street with their emergency lights on while being parked right next to an actual parking spot—then getting mad at you because you point out the obvious.

I love to see my mother every night and every morning… it is my privilege to say I love my mother because others sometimes can’t say that.

I hate that I sometimes think I am better than others, because that is my ego.

I teared up the other day while at the swap meet trying to deliver plastic bags to the vendors, and while passing one of the booths where this incredible woman showed me kindness one day—embraced me, even said I love you when I needed it… she no longer was there. A year ago she got cancer and had lost a lot of weight… every time I passed I would embrace her. Two weeks ago she stopped being there.

I never had long conversations with her. She only bought cases of plastic bags from me once.

I felt emotion for someone I barely knew.

I am not perfect. I am scared of being nothing.

Question: What’s something you’re carrying right now that you don’t usually say out loud?

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Journal

being human, Los Angeles, self-awareness, south central, vulnerability, writing, writing into the void

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punisherpapi

Echoes of the Garage is my running record of rebuilding—structure, soul, and stubborn hope. I’m writing, illustrating, and hustling in LA, turning the everyday into story. If you’re learning to carry weight without losing yourself, you’re home here. Read more on the About page.

About Me

I’m Roberto Sanchez — illustrator, writer, and delivery driver in Los Angeles.

By day, I sell plastic bags out of a van across South Central.

By night, I draw, write, and build my life brick by brick.

I graduated from Cal State Long Beach in 2022 with a BFA in Illustration, but art has never been just school to me. It’s survival, reflection, and expression. My illustrations come slow — patience is part of the work.

I live and create out of a converted garage.

That small room became Echoes of the Garage — the place where I put words, drawings, and the pieces of a life I’m rebuilding one step at a time.

Here you’ll find journal entries, Hood Chronicles, and visual experiments that try to capture the absurd, the painful, and the human in everyday life.

This is where I put it all: drawings, words, and fragments of a life in motion.

This site is where I put it all: drawings, words, and fragments of a life in motion.

Echoes of the Garage

“Writing Into the Void”

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“Writing Into the Void”

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