Discussion in 'Your Bijou Blogette' started by pineapplist, Dec 24, 2019.
my back is completely SHOT
at least i have 4 days off
processing trauma through amazingly niche character headcanons
such a shame. we couldve gone sailing
every day i am learning to forgive myself more and more and every day i witness more and more kindness from the people around me, and one day i want to take it to heart, because people are so, so, good to me every day. i have to remember this despite the ways i have been treated - there's more than enough good in the world.
i just used to be so violent. and just violently physical and violently emotional and violently passionate. and i am not violent, even if i am intense, it's just.. hard, because the nature of my illnesses have me unable to handle things in a reasonable way. emotional dysregulation as a default concept is a lot to deal with.
but i am very, very, lucky that people tend to love me, i have lost so much in life and i used to be violently suicidal because of it. and that wasn't even that long ago. but all i want to think of now is all the ways i'm trying to be good. i'm trying my best to be good, and i think i'm doing well. i hope i am.
i mean. i'm very mentally ill, physically ill with chronic pain, myriads of other things. living day to day with INCAPACITATING ocd is a nightmare i would not wish on anyone.
but. i'm doing well in pursuing the career i want to pursue. i have awesome contacts and i know i'll end up doing what i love in animation. i have a job i really love right now with people who understand and value me and i'm going to school and even if it's hard i'm still doing so so so much better than i did in high school. i try
your loss, babe
i haven't been as inspired for a long time especially because i met an AMAZING WRITING PARTNER and rp partner and we've literally gone thru like... 100 pages worth of content for our shared verse its so epic and good and inspiring.. lauren i love u so dearly
also i began cross, at long long long last as a novel manuscript with about 600 pages planned?
i mean im about 60k words/100 pages into raytracer so i'm just playing w/ doing a genuine version of cross on the side. i mean cross isn't meant to be a novel but it's a hell of a good reference for how i want to plan it out + introduce people to it at all because i have like. well over 1000 pages worth of graphic novel in my future to work with lmao
2020 i become not only art god but writing god too and animation god and i Ascend. i am untouchable now! i am a jack of all trades! some things i am not terribly good at but i am doing well. thank god.
anyways for all .2 people who know about cross or are interested in my stuff, here's a few pages from chapter 1:
There was a sickly creature in the rafters of the old church.
It moved with a silent, yet evident lack of grace, it moved amongst the crumbling wooden beams and sent dust cascading down from their creaking foundations. It moved amongst the cobwebs and the bated breaths of fuzzy, small rats that refused to look it in its eyes, orange and slitted, it moved through an indescribable silence, one where no one talked, no one stayed.
No one was here.
Though it knew there was no one, nothing here to see him, nothing but the buzzing of insects that nested in the corners of flickering lights, it still moved, it still walked with a silent caution. Its talons were a vision of sharpness - they descended with a click against splintering wood, and it balanced its weight, looking left, right, in a panicked flutter. Casting a spiky, distinctive, lengthy silhouette against the walls that once glistened white, it moved through debris that scattered the floor, the pews, split in two, no more dignified than the rest of the creatures that sought shelter in a recently-abandoned place. Windows, shattered glass that scattered the floors, and a particularly large shard that caught its eye, it looked hard into the vagueness of its distorted reflection, for any answer it was willing to give.
The reflective shard did not hold many answers, but it was the first it had seen of itself since running its talons all over its body in a panic, in the snow, feeling for an answer, feeling for something. Previously, it could only seem to visualize that it was a quadrupedal, though bipedal, if it so pleased, as it realized that ascending upon two legs was within the range of its hips. It had a long, fuzzy, crooked snout, that hung from its face and tapered into a sharp black bill. Scatterings of its fur were a silvery, paler color, compared to the rest of the reddish-gray of its face, which was marked with swirlings of dark, curled stripes. Its eyes, a mask of blackened stripes, a stark orange, glowing lights against the bony body its mottled hairs covered. The right one had remained unfocused, scattered, ever since it had awoken, though it’d been far too panicked to even consider the implications of what it held for its future. Now, it simply batted, futilely, at the eye with the dilated pupil, the black center that took up the amber beneath like a shadowy void.
It did not focus.
It pushed the shard aside, and tilted upwards to the broken remnant of a window above, though it tried to find a word to call it that was not window. It did not seem to know exactly what it was, more as if it were only something he’d seen within writings and imagery, though those, it couldn’t even recall, either. Snow continued to make its way into the building, dustlike particles through moonlight that rippled through the shattered spines of a once-immaculate image, there were dancings, smatterings of reds and yellows and greens upon the floor.
It was not quite sure whether it was safe to escape the building it had found itself in, not long after it scrambled, flightless wings that flapped towards a destination it did not know in the midst of the ground splitting apart. Its chest ached, sticky with dried blood around the softer, paler fur that draped down from it, a wound in the center, cauterized by some unknown force, but scabbed, throbbing, all the same. A few times, it had traced across the mark with a gentle touch, though it was hard to be gentle, and something about this greatly troubled it. Without intending to, it had accidentally torn through the tender flesh with a shaky claw, and it’d spent the rest of the night before whimpering upon a broken bench, hoping for the cessation of the white that fell from the sky.
It didn’t quite know what snow was, either, but the word snow rested somewhere in the back of its mind, one of the few certainties in the haziness of its consciousness.
In fact, the more it moved across the unfamiliar innards of the elaborate architecture within, the more it was aware of that fact that everything it touched was a shock of a texture, a force throughout nerves, as if it were a newborn, stumbling through the rubble that slit and poked into it with every small movement.
The padded ends of hind legs, paws, the blunt boniness of its forearms, scaled limbs studded with sharp scales, they moved in tandem as if they were asking a question as well, about their existence, about how they were able to move. It had tripped one too many times - it had the tiny cuts to the scrawny skin beneath to prove it, but it hobbled in, forgetting the third set of limbs that folded limply to its sides. Wings, though they were atrophied, essentially useless, as much as it had flapped them so frantically before. They threw off its balance, leading it to stumble once more across the once-tiled floor and land with an undignified thud, that echoed through its skull with a high-pitched sound.
It felt itself spasm.
Machine emblazoned with a black mark, letters, a name for it, it circled over his head and pressed sharpened talons into every indent of his skull, he tried not to scream, though a drawling, despairing moan gurgled from his throat.
I’m doing amazingly, all things considered.
This was the only thing that remained.
Spasming again, he shook, he scrambled for a foothold as his vision had quickly been overcome with red, a great, silver, spiraling thing, and the distinct feeling of having been hit over the head before. Though his ears were long, they flattened against his head, he felt their tufted tips rest lazily over the spiky fur along his back, and he stared. Stared at the ground beneath his feet, stared at nothing in particular, cursed the eye that wouldn’t focus, it turned everything into doubles, it turned the single skewer of red glass into two, equally long, spiny spears that crossed over each other in a dizzied vision. It tickled at his skull, though this wasn’t a result of having fallen and experienced something he didn’t quite have words for, he did enjoy the fact that it felt rather correct knowing to refer to himself as a he. Some kind of individual, it cleared a haze of animalistic instinct that had overcome him over the past day, the kind of instinct that heightened his senses and killed his mind, and now, within seconds, after having unintentionally knocked himself on the floor, he was quite aware, now, he was quite aware that he was something breathing, living, walking, making some kind of sense.
He was not an animal.
might just make a thread on cross as crazy asshole quarantine zone because i get overwhelmed posting about it and then getting attention. Do Not Look At Me. .. . . i am just doing thing s
made jade quarantine zone. i have Big Plans. You Will All Realize
actually i am so fucking happy for all the Motivation for life and my work that prozac fucking gave me because like.. im not kidding when i say my depression took away my drive and love for writing and drawing and it's been eroded away with the years, but FINALLY, AT LAST, I CAN MAKE ALL I WANT NOW!!! I CAN FINALLY DO IT!!
i wanna change my icon lowkey to something more Colorful but like i really do be feeling gay breakdown faba
went apeshit for 5 days straight sorry luvs x
google search how to tell your insistent parents “I don’t want to celebrate my birthday” and “I’m happy just working and going to therapy on my birthday as usual”
I actually haven’t really celebrated my birthday in like.... years .... because it’s just been. very, very bad for me emotionally and physically on every single birthday, and I’d like to let it go for a while. back when I was worse, just feeling “there’s another year I’m alive” was very hard for me.
I hope to be able to celebrate them again someday.
also because it’s relevant and i am having a few moments after talking with a friend tonight
how 2 cope when you have let horrible, painful things happen to you mentally and physically for years because you were so apathetic, but now you are extremely traumatized and happy to be alive but also extremely traumatized
I’m completely incapable of touching people and it’s awful like... a friend of mine hugged me and I nearly had a panic attack when they let it go on for a while. i haven’t been close to a single person for months on end and I just WANT to be able to show the people I love affection again. but I can’t. and my need for it is just.. long gone.
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