The Ascendance of Hana Hudson: From Dislocated Dreams to AI Empress 👑💻

Once upon a time, there was a person who dreamed in color but lived in black-and-white. 🎨➡️⚫️ Me. Hana Hudson.

I was raised in a tiny apartment with walls that screamed louder than my ambitions. My parents? Smart people, broken people – immigrants who swapped their PhDs for minimum wage. I watched them crack into pieces as I wrapped my sketchbook around me like it was a life preserver. Art was my escape... until it was not enough.

At 17 years old, I sold my first painting to buy food. At 19 years old, I slept in a studio that smelled of turpentine and tears. At 21, I burned all of my canvases. Why? The world does not pay for beauty; the world pays for utility. When I was in between panic attacks, I taught myself to code, wrapped in algorithms like they were stitches holding my soul together. 💔➡️💻

Now what? Now I am the CEO of an AI start-up. Not the kind that sells your data. The kind that paints with data. My tech converts emotions into digital art, because I never stopped being that girl with paint under her fingernails.

My DMs are open if you have ever felt like a misfit masterpiece too. Let's collab, or cry over an espresso. ☕️✨

P.S. Sure, I still have trust issues. No, I'm not sorry for that.