sad aloneness

sadness
aloneness
& i wonder how many times
in how many ways
i can say
the same thing
& not be heard?
the comfort
of my invisibility
suffocates me
i want out
i. want. out.
can you hear
me?
please
get me out
of
my own head
before
i decide
i never
want to leave.

i think maybe this project has reached a conclusion…or maybe it will go on forever.
maybe i will go on forever
comforting myself with my own suffocating sadness

or maybe i will start an illustrated memoir.
i should really start an illustrated memoir.

okay.
so…i need an agent & a cheerleader.
someone who can tolerate large doses of bitter animosity & self-pity.
also, must enjoy loud children.

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no poetry

i am not a poet
these are not poems
it is just
that i have spilled
my angst
all over the page
vomited my emotions
with pen & brush.

this was my yesterday epiphany–expanded upon.
also!
i took a photo before i used my brush on it, because i wasn’t sure if i liked it better without shading & color.

nopoetry

but i think the color worked okay.

good news! i have been very angst-y & especially reflective with all the trauma i keep vomiting on myself. so that means i have 4 pages written in my journal that just need illustrating.
so we all have that to look forward to.

inktober 15…invisible

which is how i feel…invisible.

if i’m on social media for the sake of my art…and i get extremely very little feedback on said art…then why am i on social media when it just seems to contribute to my depression & anxiety?

pages 12, 13, 14, and a do-over page 1

IMG_5449

after taking this picture, i looked up about how messy desks are a sign of genius. i mean, wow. look how smart i am.
ha!

i am enjoying this project. it allows me to experiment.

page 14

and being–once again–optimistic about my art, i spent money i didn’t have on more art supplies.
but, in my defense…art supplies!
i don’t buy shoes, clothes, or technology.
but i do splurge on art supplies
seeds & plants
and
of course
livestock.

i dunno.
i think i have my priorities straight.

pages 10 & 11 and a do-over

page 10

two new pages…and then i had to do another version of this page:

page 7

for a laundry list of reasons that i put already in another blog.

page 7(2)

and i like the new version better. i do. but i wish i could stop hating my work. i try really really hard to look at it like someone would who isn’t noticing every little mistake. i try to look at it like i would if it weren’t mine.

that’s the trick, isn’t it?

this has been a difficult project for me for that reason. knowing that it is for someone else and that i can’t just squirrel it away and say, “well nevermind” is difficult for me. if it is a picture only the artist can love–fine. but since i am going to be putting this out in the world, i have that added vulnerability of knowing someone else is going to be looking at it–judging it.

moses jones once received a review from some comic blog. it was not a good review. but i was able to brush it off because i didn’t care what the review said and moses is my baby so who cares what other people think?

do i sometimes care what other people think?
no. i really really don’t.
i mean, i want people to like it…but if they don’t, it’s no big deal.
just like i want people to like me
but i really don’t care what people think of me.
however, i’m still aware of what people might be thinking….
i mean, i don’t live in a vacuum
no matter how hard my shell is
or how tall my walls are
criticism still hurts…

and compliments still confuse me….

my mom liked to tell me, “no man is an island.”
and i would answer her that i was a peninsula.

pages four, five, & six

so much ink. i’m not sure if i should re-do this one or go with it. i am playing around a lot with intentional ink stains. i am no van gogh however.

i’m still undecided on some of my results.
some i feel really strongly about…others, i’m not so sure.
i could point out all of the things that bug me…but i’m not going to. i’m working on managing my anxiety, and i think this somehow falls into it.

so here are some pages.

done-ish.

pages one, two, & three

i wrote the following poem/facebook post for my new moon manifestation

internet dating
with it’s oozing
toxic
masculinity
both the profiles
(sports! sports! & sports!)
and the interactions
(ass-hole-io!)
have caused me to swear off men…
a new moon
(new beginnings!)
& an eclipse
(feminine moon blocks out masculine sun)
methinks i should explore
the ambidextrous nature
of my heart.

so ever since i said i’m not dating men anymore, men keep approaching me via facebook. friend requests, message requests, and–today–one “god fearing” man offered himself to me (or any other of the single ladies) on a post i had written about how much internet dating sucks ass. i suspect my frequent postings about internet dating has put me on some sort of demented facebook singles page.
gross.
what really really really pisses me off is that not a one of them took the time to see who i am. seriously? all my information is right there–pagan anarchist single woman seeking other women. how difficult is that to research?
do you research, fellas.
i’m done.
so done.
i just want to do art. hang with my minions & other critters here. contemplate the mysteries of the universe…and not be a single lady.
no more.
i am not single.
i am complex. and amazing. and wonderful.