By the time I was 15, everything changed—I had a computer. No more typewriters or scavenging old magazines for pictures. With a keyboard and the infinite possibilities of digital design at my fingertips, I was unstoppable.That’s when I founded Hostile Magazine. The name wasn’t just a catchy title—it was a declaration of who I was at the time. I was hostile to the world around me, to the endless doubt and disbelief I’d faced growing up. Most of all, I was still furious that no one seemed to believe in aliens yet.Hostile was my rebellion. It wasn’t just about aliens, though they made frequent appearances in my articles and artwork. It was a place where I could channel my anger, my creativity, and my growing discontent with a world that felt so small-minded.Every issue was a collision of raw energy and bold ideas. I experimented with graphics, layouts, and stories, often staying up all night tinkering with every last detail. The magazine was my way of saying, “Here I am, and this is what ...
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