stuck like this

i can feel
the broken parts
inside me
clenching into a
fist
determined
not to be
removed
not to be
healed
staking their claim
to my ego
to my
self
a vice-like grasp
on every
thought
that dares to
venture
out
testing the waters
of my personality
today
“you are a useless
&
awful
person,”
they whisper…but
to me
it sounds like
a scream.

okay. so i write these pages as the thoughts tumble through my brain. so the date on the page is the date i wrote it. i illustrate them in the order i write them.
some days i have several thoughts screaming to be heard.
some days my brain is nice & quiet.
it often happens that i have several pages of script before i get an idea for what image should be with each page. usually i am a day or two or even more behind on illustrating my thoughts.
so! it often happens that by the time i illustrate a thought, i have recovered from it. if that makes sense. i mean, this whole ordeal is just a long, drawn-out exorcism.

ta-da.
(in other words–i feel much better now…but this thought is a valid one…the battle inside me. parts of me wanting to heal–other parts fighting it tooth & nail.)

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INKtober twenty-eighth

i am autumn
i am change
i am ready
to rest
to let go
to prepare
for
spring.

…if i survive winter.
i felt calm, hopeful even, when i wrote this as i watched the wind blow across the blue sky outside my window.
then something cracked & damaged inside me shifted. my rabies flared up.
now i am not so sure that i am anything other than a dead mom walking.
maybe i am not meant to rest.
like my own dear mother always said, “no rest for the wicked.”

INKtober twenty-fifth

i am not broken
i am not broken
is my mantra
today
i am not broken
i am not broken
should be my mantra
every
day
i am not broken
i am not broken
is what helps
me try
to stand
a little taller
a little stronger
helps me be brave
helps me live
to fight
another
day
even when
all
i want
to do
is
surrender.

INKtober sixteenth

i don’t know
if i should
laugh
or
cry
live or die
make the best
of a
bad
situation
or…
just don’t…
my heart’s not into it
this game of
life
my heart
left
during intermission
my life is
an intermission
as the band says
should i stay
or
should i
go?

so this is completely stupid. i started watching a tv show on netflix. a mediocre tv show that reminded me of all the cop/detective shows i so so loved as a child.
the mysteries of laura…it even has a stupid name.
& yet i let it be my soothsayer.
the series begins as the lead character–a strong, intelligent, & stubborn woman, is just divorcing her adorable but cheating asshole of a husband.
the show was pretty predictable & the characters lacked depth and each episode was neatly wrapped up in 50 minutes….but i was glued to the series as i waited to see what would happen between laura & her cheating ex, jake.
he was devoted to getting her back.
she found a hot new guy.
but then dumped him when she realized she was still in love with jake.
alas.
jake proposed to someone else… (so much for devotion.)
and the second season ended…not to be renewed by nbc.

fuck a fucking duck.
my magic eightball went ka-put.
and i sobbed like a toddler who dropped her ice cream on the hot sidewalk.

so i’m kind of disgusted with myself right now.
really actually pretty much
disgusted.
and i’m probably going to cry myself to sleep again tonight.

thanks nbc.
think of that next time you decide to cancel a show.

INKtober ninth

you’re sort of perfect
you’re sometimes
perfect
sometimes
just right
for me
sometimes
the worst thing ever
the thing that
tore me apart
turned me
inside
out
&
into someone
i no longer
recognized…
you’re sort of the devil
you’re sometimes
the devil
sometimes
the end of me
sometimes
my favorite family
&
my best
friend
being there for me
when
i
least
expect it
an every morning
coffee date
the warmest hug
in the whole
wide
world.

so many conflicting feelings as i sludge through whatever this is going on. i mean, i keep falling back in love with him. what happens next…i invite him into my life…everything is groovy…& then things go horribly wrong.
but what exactly happens?
is it him…me…the two of us together in one life boat?

also…i could not think of how to draw me. i was stumped. so i just drew, and this is what happened.

i dunno.

INKtober seventh

holy crap
what if
what if
you can’t do
normal
what if dysfunctional
is the only
speed
you move at?
you say you want
stable & secure
but then
then
you secretly shop for
fucked up
you crave crazy
you love the lunatics
lists of issues
are a turn-on
is this your sickness?
is this something
you can recover from?
or is damaged
&
broken
just the way you
roll
your own
warped
happy
ish
ending.

went with my love of egon schiele again for inspiration on this self-portrait. it seemed suitable for a post on my love of damaged people.

swimming in the grey matter sloshing about in my head…makes for a interesting though entirely confusing trip.

 

without a broken heart

i’m trying to figure out
how to live
with a heart
that is not broken
so much of my life
has been spent
ensnared
in my own pain
dancing to the beat
of my
perpetually broken
heart
all my days spent
first
trying to heal
& then
breaking my self
all over again
so much of my life
broken
i have no idea
how to live
without
wrapping myself up
in my own
misery.

i wrote down the thoughts on this page after commenting on someone’s post about broken hearts.
i liked the idea and this poem is my attempt at flushing out the idea of learning to live with a heart that is not broken.
i might play with it more.

the dodo bird is my spirit guide as i try to fly.
reminding me not to be too trusting.
reminding me to survive.

i have been thinking a lot about starting to do comics again. my latest posts are a bit cartoon-y…which i have to keep reminding myself that that is okay. it is okay to draw the way i draw. it is okay to not be michelangelo.
but maybe my subconscious is trying to steer me back to comics. i like to draw. i like to write stories…comics make sense. i just have to accept that, also, i am never going to be stan lee.
i am me. i have my own style. i have my own story to tell.

if only…

i don’t know why
some days
it hurts so much more than
other days
except
wait
it hurts
every day
it’s just that i don’t let myself
look
at it
every day
the potential
how good it
could
have been
what could
have
if only
if only

if only

the other morning, i was laying in bed with poppy. he started talking about looking for blackberries with his dad…and i started thinking about all the good things about his dad…all the things that made him perfect for me.
all the things that could have been.
you know
if he wasn’t also a narcissistic & emotionally abusive assfuck.
that stuff.
i always do it with my folks too.
who would i be today if i had had supportive parents? parents who loved me & supported me…instead of being, you know, narcissistic & emotionally abusive assfucks.
sigh.
those fucking “could have beens….”

broken people

i’ve always loved the broken people
always always
i am drawn to them
but not like a moth
to a flame
because i am also the fire
my damage
at least as deep
as theirs
i love them because i think
they will understand
they will know me &
they will love me
because i am like them…
thing is
when both of you
are broken
who is picking up the pieces?

*this post was inspired by all the feelings i have when i hear lovely the band’s song, “broken.” which, coincidentally, played on the radio as i was illustrating this page.

i think a lot about this, especially since the song came out. i mean, dusty always said he was attracted to me because he could tell i was damaged. and even when i look for a healthy relationship i always find myself oogling those obviously broken men, trying to cover up their damage with cynicism & dark humor.

seymour was not broken. while i was with him, every broken man i saw turned my head. i never had that problem when i was dating damaged guys. i focused on them & obsessed over fixing them. but seymour had nothing for me to fix. so i wandered away. stupid girl. stupid stupid girl.

turns out, those of us who are broken, we need someone who isn’t broken. if we the broken choose other broken people to love, all we do is keep on breaking each other.

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