I don’t know what to do
Just feel like there’s nothing I want
Nothing I want to do
I just want to be alone
Nothing I do is good enough
There are things I could be doing
There are things I should be doing
Things that I can do but don’t
Things I should change but don’t
I don’t want to do anything
But I need directions in life
I could be better
I should drive myself
But I’m not
Glub
no offense but i’m literally starving for affection but when people give it to me i can’t accept it as valid because i’m worried i’ve manipulated their perception of me by only portraying myself a certain way and feeling like this portrayal of myself is an imposter and makes me disingenuous and not deserving of the affection they give me.
can i get an amen
Glub
God fucking mosquitos why the fuck do they exist.
Spent Saturday sick like hell and ridden with bites because one fucking mosquito is in the house.
Tuesday, and there’s more!
There’s no standing water in this place either!
I’m still alive.
Would be homeless soon, still trying to get something that pays better.
glub.
Still a peice of shit who can’t get a job.
House could be gone as early as the end of the month.
I’d like you to take a moment and think about the questions I’m about to ask. It’s totally alright not to have an answer for all of them, but they’re good to keep in mind.
What do I like about my art?
What skills could I add to make my art even better?
What drives me to improve?
WHO do I want my art to be noticed by and for WHAT reason?
WHAT are the things I like about my own art that I wish people would notice more? How can I bring it to their attention?
What is it that makes me doubt my own skills? WHY does it make me doubt them?
Can I afford to ask for critique more?
What have I learned from creating art? What advice can I give to others based on my experiences?
Another bout of hiatus as I try to find a better paying job and also try to clean the house.
Sometimes I feel like some of my issues could be solved by drawing more. I could somehow get more people interested in my stuff, get some commissions, fill out my time, get better somehow in art, maybe improve my mood.
But then I try to draw anything but nothing comes out. It feels draining to try to draw something, only to stare at an empty screen trying to figure out what to draw. Coupled with the fact that I don’t really feel anything about what I draw, makes it harder to get started drawing.
I tried to do quests to see if I could do at least one drawing a day, but I find that I am spending less and less effort in trying to make panels and that I’m running out of things to fill out the story with.
And it’s beginning to feel more and more empty, doing the quest. I don’t mind doing it, but I am not feeling anything from it.
At times I feel like I should perhaps restart my parteon or something to try to incentivize myself, but I feel bad about setting up something like that. Like as if I’m lying.
I just don’t know, and trying to do something about it feels exhausting and tiresome.
Well someone just had a talk about getting children when my first brother is now my sister, and my second brother is gay.
Finding documents is a terrible thing.
Also again reminded of such a failure I am.
All these fucking documents I need to find, shit I need to clean, and I just want to sleep.
Just sleep and rest and be alone.
My mother, wheelchair bound due to a stroke, was knocked down by a car on her way back home on her motorized wheelchair, on the street just outside my home on last Saturday, 22nd April.
She hit her head badly and blood started swelling in her brain. The doctors put her under and drilled a hole in her skull to let blood out and she stayed medically sedated for her brain pressure to fall. Doctors had told us that she might not wake up, or if she does, she could be physically impaired.
26th April morning, I got a call from the hospital that my mom developed a lung infection and was under heavy medication and was in a critical condition. She died 3 hours later of pneumonia.
She had to have an autopsy because it was an official police case, but the driver was remorseful and had sent us flowers in the three day wake. She was cremated on Friday and in Saturday, we set her urn in the cemetery where my fathers future ashes would be set once his cemetery plot is expired.
My brother and I have been cleaning up the house from Friday, setting aside the mountain of craft hobbies my mother has. Due to culture and religion, we can’t throw her stuff for 7 days, in where her soul would return during the last day.
Personally I would rather throw all her stuff away, but my brother wants to sell some, and the rest of the extended family and friends would like some stuff too. This all makes cleaning the stuff harder as we play an eternal waiting and Tetris cleanup game.
Meanwhile, I’ve shoved my laptop and stuff back into my boxes since my brother is back and reclaimed his room while he stays over for the weekend.
In the end, we’ve decided that I should move out since I would be the only one left in a 3 room flat, and the others are kinda worried about what I’ll do with my life now that my time isn’t filled with helping my mother. I’m not sure about what will be up for the future either.
I guess I am technically an orphan now.
My mother passed away this morning.
Sometimes writing is like having an enormous lake in your head, and you want to get it out of your head and into a proper place for a lake so other people can come and go swimming and ride jet skis and stuff, except all you have to move the lake is a teaspoon. So you’re just sitting there frantically flinging water out of the lake with your teaspoon and telling people, “Guys, this lake is going to be so cool when it’s done,” but it will never be done. There is so much lake.
I didn’t really expect this to be relatable, but if you wanna reblog, go wild.