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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not a love story

when i was eighteen
i lost my virginity
to a punk rock junkie
on purpose
i didn’t want “it” to be
special
i didn’t want “it” to be all
you are my special someone
so here is my special something…
instead
i was all like
i got this…do you want it?
& then
shortly after
i did find that special someone
who proceeded
to break my heart into a million pieces
so
i’ve never regretted getting with the bass player
from bong frog
instead of waiting
for “the one.”

on an old couch
in an abandoned house
with a guy who looked
enough like a corpse
that his friends called him
dead guy

not a love story.

it took me a couple days to figure out how to illustrate this one. then the minions went to their dad’s house & i took a nap & figured it out.
i do my best thinking in bed.
or on the couch.
whatever.

the color of my tears

the color of my tears
is the color of my eyes
some muted mix
of blue & green
that falls freely from my eyes

i get my brother’s birthday & his death day
mixed up in my head
he was born…
three weeks (& 45 years later)
he died
the last i spoke to him
was his birthday
so it is the last i remember of him
from the end of november
to almost christmas
it all blends together.
the end of him
& every time i see 12:19 on a clock
i forget that it is the birthday
of my children’s father
& only remember
it as my brother’s death
day.

when i was a girl

when i was a girl
i started writing books
books about girls on adventures
girls escaping from their evil mothers
(my father–a violent alcoholic
never appeared
in my stories…
i simply erased him.)
when i was a girl
i started taking long walks
walks through fields
& woods
just thinking
& feeling
the world around me
trying to make sense of it
when i was a girl
i would sit & stare
stare at the horizon
imagine breaching
the walls of the valley
surrounding me
escaping
the warm sun on my face
the massive clouds
eluding me
& i would wish i were
braver….

this is the second version of this i did. i don’t usually re-do these; they are quick sketches done in ink with no revisions. that’s me. that’s my technique.

however!
yuck. i did a representative picture of myself as a girl. bleah. it just was awful. i’m not even going to show it to you. in fact i burned it in my kitchen sink, saying a spell for my art to listen to the whispers in my head rather than depending on what my eyes see….

recently someone was nice enough to compare some of my journal pages to the pages of william blake. so i checked out some books from the library so i could see what he manifested. when my first drawing failed, i cracked open one of the books and looked at a few of his drawings. this second one was inspired by what i saw there–and the feelings of my heart rather than the what may or may not have been more true.

this is not what i looked like as a girl. i actually had bangs.
but, you know what? fuck bangs.
so this is what i looked like in my heart.
as i rise up over the mackinaw river valley
escaping into the clouds.

disappearing boyfriends

when i was twenty-two, my therapist told me to stop dating.
she feared i had a sexual addiction.
in fact, i was (am?) addicted to relationships (which is one reason it took me ten thousands attempts to break up with dusty)
& being also afflicted with contrary personality disorder (i just made that up)
i shook off my therapist’s instructions & found some troubled
& troubling
boy to date
whom i wasn’t even really attracted to
(a re-occurring personality in my grab-bag of relationships)
anyhoo
long story short
when i realized i was being stupid
i called the boy up & told him i needed “to talk” to him
…& i never saw him again.
i mean
he disappeared before i could break up with him
strangely
or not
that is not the last time i had a boyfriend vanish before i could break up with him….

okay–so while i was doing the illustration/self-portrait/comic for this, i messed up my drawing & had to cover it up and then when i was doing background color–my ink smeared??? but…i think i salvaged it.
my ink is not supposed to smear. bad ink.

so it looks like this might be the direction this whole experiment turns to. a comic. an illustrated journal/memoir.
that would be kinda cool.
let’s see what other noteworthy memories i can dredge up.

eye pockets

eye pockets
are one of my very most favorite
of facial features
i love them so much
that i used to pump up the muscles under my eyes
hoping that the bulge
would somehow add contour
to my own face
add some character
to my “girl next door” blah
except
when people asked
i told them
that i was working on building up my under-eye muscle
so that one day
i would be able to close my eyes
from the bottom up
like a frog

this is one of those random things about me. something i think is hilarious…but that is probably just me.
i thought of it because i have been watching terriers on netflix and michael raymond-james has the yummiest eye pockets i have seen in a long time.
i want to marry his eye pockets.

granted…i am lonely as fuck…but he is hot.

and i am lonely as fuck.

sad & lonely & thinking about eye pockets.

love lost…heart formed

to say i was a lonely & strange child…i was a misfit…watching the world around me & not understanding. not at all.
then, i don’t remember when, i met a girl who i understood & who seemed to understand me & it didn’t matter what the world thought of us because we had each other & could be perfectly odd together.
then we turned sixteen.
& i became weirder while she embraced the popular….
my first…big…damaging…shattering even…heartbreak.
& i stayed on the fringe.
i felt safe on the fringe.
barely knowing people. not letting them see me.
until one day
when i was twenty-two
i met a boy
& we became fast friends & then we became more & it felt all meant to be–he seemed to really see me–but i hesitated & it ended in terrible betrayal
i stayed me…he became someone else…someone i know longer knew & i wondered if i ever really knew him…& my world fell apart all over again….
i wonder…
but i don’t believe
& here i live
lonely ever after….