Resin Fume Induced Jewelry Psychosis

There comes a day in every crafter's life, when you look around at your living room, and realize it has become an art studio. And that your kitchen is also an art studio. And your bedroom. And possibly your bathroom.

That day came only two short months after the first night I tried my hand at making jewelry. I had only wanted to make myself a few pairs of feather earrings. Three pairs of earrings turned into a dozen, a dozen turned into 100, and I turned into a jewelry making machine.

From my humble beginnings as a feather earring maker, I rose up the ranks to wire wrapping artiste, to beaded bracelet developer, then to resin connoisseur.

After inhaling resin fumes for many months, I began to believe that magical elves helped me to create my jewelry. These same factory elves continue to help me to this day, collecting glitter from the nearby forests, foraging for sprinkles, and mixing up industrial sized tanks of resin so that I may feed the public's hunger for high quality colourful designs in the shapes of mustaches and fish.

One day, I will likely be committed to an asylum due to my feverish desire to produce more and more and even yet more jewelry - and also due to my elf hallucinations - but until that day, I am committed to you dear consumer. I am committed to you.