A moment of silence for all the times we drew people with arms behind their back to avoid having to draw the hands.
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I try so hard to draw pretty colored things, but I always go back to drawing in black pens. Devastating.
Explaining my new drawing. Automatic thoughts.
The dark figures are the monsters.
That razor up there. Yeah, you know what that is.
These messed up lines are for the nightmares I keep having every night.
That figure in the very top, that’s me. I’m trapped in my own mind.
That figure in the right-middle, that’s the girl.
The girl that I see everyday.
The girl that’s one of the reasons why I’m that messed up.
The girl that keeps asking me to run.
The fog on the very top, These are my thoughts. My horrible thoughts.
The ones that keep me up all night.
That ship, it’s me at my worst.
When I reach the point of having suicidal thoughts.
When I’m sinking.
When it’s too late for me to be saved.
I can’t stop thinking about all of this.
I’m exhausted.
I just want to end all of it.
I really tried to scroll past this, the denial was eating me alive though.
This post is my life.
A moment of silence for all those times we drew people with really long side bangs to avoid drawing another eye.
"صداقات الإنترنت تكون صداقات فكر؛ لا عائلة ولا مال ولا زملاء دراسة ولا شيء يبنيها أبدًا إنما إعجاب بعقل أو تشابه ذوق موسيقي أو صدفة محادثة بنفس الوقت.. العالم الإفتراضي احيانًا حقيقي، والحقيقة أحيانًا افتراض.“
“I have been missing your voice / like bleached bones dream of flesh.”
— Rebecca Salazar, from “Reasonable ground,” published in Cosmonauts Avenue (via lifeinpoetry)