(no subject)
It's funny, but sad, how a cartoon can make me cry; cry more often than reality. Is it because I relate everything? Is it because I wonder off and make it all seem real in my head? People think my hobby is stupid, or it's cool and they like it too, but they don't understand it helps me escape. It really does. And teaches me too, it teaches me how to draw. I mimic. I'm so fucking unoriginal. I have to do something by learning from someone else. That is how eveything works. Everything I draw has to do with something I've seen. Can't I have one fucking original piece?
I only drew one thing in my entire life where it actually hurts when others see it. No one realizes, it seems to them like I had a shitty day when I drew it, a "nightmare on Elm street". You just don't understand, do you? I don't draw much with passion lately, since I have to do most for class. But the ones I do draw, and I feel them when I draw, I'm just putting on paper what I can't say. I speak in lines, in ink. I felt that one, i still can. It's not done.
Don't look at it, it's hideous.
I'm crying as I am typing this, and my fingers are cold.
You want to know what I really think? I'm tired. Physically and mentally. I'm so tired. Of everything. Of not being able to sleep, of not being able to breathe, of not being able to stop. I'm sick of everyone. I say I put on a mask, but what about you? That is what everyone seems to do. Nothing is what it really is. Or am I just the fucked up one? How come I can feel, smell, and touch something I imagine in my head? How come it seems more real than reality? How? I don't get it. Why do I rather be around something that isn't even there? Something that only exists in my head?
My life isn't as miserable as many others, then why do I act like a fucking cry baby like everything is wrong? Am I craving attention? From who? Why?
I don't act like this around people, not around anyone. Only when I use words... When I don't speak directly...
I hate how I always find something to complain about. I'm such a fucking hypocrite.
It been a little over a year since I started this. For the original purpose of remembering. Because I always forget. I have abandoned my first intent. I don't want to remember anymore. Now it seems I'm just asking for pity, doesn't it? For one stupid comment, to see what you think? I don't need it. I never did.
A year is the longest short time. Can you remember what happened in the past year? I do. Too much, but not enough. Not enough to make it better, but enough to make it worse. Worse with a cough full of blood, scars that still stare , and headaches that pound so hard I couldn't help but sob. In one year. And to think I have so many more to go. It doesn't have to be this way.
"Life, what is it but a dream?"
I only drew one thing in my entire life where it actually hurts when others see it. No one realizes, it seems to them like I had a shitty day when I drew it, a "nightmare on Elm street". You just don't understand, do you? I don't draw much with passion lately, since I have to do most for class. But the ones I do draw, and I feel them when I draw, I'm just putting on paper what I can't say. I speak in lines, in ink. I felt that one, i still can. It's not done.
Don't look at it, it's hideous.
I'm crying as I am typing this, and my fingers are cold.
You want to know what I really think? I'm tired. Physically and mentally. I'm so tired. Of everything. Of not being able to sleep, of not being able to breathe, of not being able to stop. I'm sick of everyone. I say I put on a mask, but what about you? That is what everyone seems to do. Nothing is what it really is. Or am I just the fucked up one? How come I can feel, smell, and touch something I imagine in my head? How come it seems more real than reality? How? I don't get it. Why do I rather be around something that isn't even there? Something that only exists in my head?
My life isn't as miserable as many others, then why do I act like a fucking cry baby like everything is wrong? Am I craving attention? From who? Why?
I don't act like this around people, not around anyone. Only when I use words... When I don't speak directly...
I hate how I always find something to complain about. I'm such a fucking hypocrite.
It been a little over a year since I started this. For the original purpose of remembering. Because I always forget. I have abandoned my first intent. I don't want to remember anymore. Now it seems I'm just asking for pity, doesn't it? For one stupid comment, to see what you think? I don't need it. I never did.
A year is the longest short time. Can you remember what happened in the past year? I do. Too much, but not enough. Not enough to make it better, but enough to make it worse. Worse with a cough full of blood, scars that still stare , and headaches that pound so hard I couldn't help but sob. In one year. And to think I have so many more to go. It doesn't have to be this way.
"Life, what is it but a dream?"