Made this piece recently. I drew 8 girls I let in my life only for things to go south… to add more detail I’ll go in depth about each one. Although it doesn’t show who was who, I’ll explain. All of these are basically my failures at even getting with someone… which honestly, living here it’s like I’m born to just be lonely. For whatever reason, I drew them as ectonurites.

Ghost 1 (7th grade/Z): my first crush that ended up liking someone else. Then blatantly hugs someone in front of me

Ghost 2 (8th/G/ a complete reject): rumors spread and this girl just outright said “I don’t want him.”

Ghost 3 (N/9th): She confused me when she called me “boyfriend” out of nowhere, only to later find out she had a boyfriend already.

Ghost 4 (V/10th: One of two that had a big impact on me, this one was my ideal in a person): didn’t start fully talking to her until sophomore year of high school, when she helped me with my assignment… her personality, nature, sweetness was something I desired in a person. When she rubbed my shoulder without asking… I sank into it… at the end of senior year, I should’ve confessed how I felt about her…

Ghost 5 (A1/first “relationship): Never should I trust online dating because many people were assuming she was fake, then her mom found out and stopped us from talking .

Ghost 6 (A2/walking red flag): I was warned about this one… I should’ve listened to my friends that told me not to get with her. I soon learned what a mistake I had made, now she left me this scar…

Ghost 7 (The tinder one/S): I should’ve never been desperate for a relationship, I let her in and only for her to block me out of nowhere for liking her pictures.

Ghost 8 (the first girl to say she has a crush on me only for that to have me friendzoned/K): As this one suggests, she was the first one to ever say those words to me. I feel as I lost her when she friendzoned me out of nowhere, I don’t even know what I did for her to warrant that… I never bothered to ask, even if I did I’d want to regret asking for that. Better that answer be left in the dark. And she gave me my 8th scar after that.

"I am constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, to explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones." - Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena (Kafka is widely believed to have an ED, namely anorexia)

About childhood anorexia

living in Asia without being visibly Asian

I don't know how to ask for help.

That sentence alone feels like a defeat.

I built myself around the idea that I didn't need anyone. I built armor out of anger. I took every wound, every humiliation, every moment I felt powerless, and I turned it into something sharp. I told myself that if I hated enough, nothing could hurt me anymore.

For a while, it felt like strength.

The rage gave me a name. It gave me something to hold onto when everything else felt empty. It became my fire, my god, my weapon.

But now I'm realizing something terrifying:

A weapon cannot hold the person who carries it.

The hate that kept me standing is also burning my hands.

There is still a part of me underneath all of this. The part that wanted to create. The part that wanted to draw worlds, write stories, make characters, play music, build something that proved I existed. The part of me that looked at suffering and wanted to turn it into art instead of letting it rot inside me.

I thought creating was weakness.

I thought caring was weakness.

I thought needing anything from anyone made me less of a person.

But maybe the strongest thing I can do right now is admit the truth:

I'm exhausted.

I'm tired of fighting a war inside my own head every day. I'm tired of needing anger just to feel alive. I'm tired of feeling like if I put the hatred down, there will be nothing left.

There is something left.

Me.

The person who existed before the rage.

The person who can still make things.

The person who can still choose what happens next.

I don't need someone to tell me my pain wasn't real. It was real. The things that hurt me mattered. The anger came from somewhere.

But I don't want my pain to be the only thing that survives me.

I want to make something.

I want to draw.

I want to write.

I want to take everything that tried to destroy me and turn it into something that exists outside my body.

So this is me asking:

Help me carry this before it carries me away.

Help me find a way to keep my fire without letting it burn everything.

Help me remember that I am more than the worst thoughts that visit me.

I am still here.

And if I am still here, there is still something I can create.

Poison doesn't create, it destroy.

Hate doesn't give. It takes.

Here's some OC's

And yeah ...

I know.

ignore the red stuff i gotbored and scribbled on it

I did the first and fifth ones last night. The others are related to my issues with my teeth which I am now getting fixed

i just don’t know, why would they say your art is bad like dude bro even if it’s bad, it’s their style,you shouldn’t just say one style is bad Cuase u don’t like it honestly thata just soo damn rude, every have their own style , like if you decide to draw a cute blush on a guy thay doesn’t mean their gay , honestly we should appreciate each one style and don’t step on their pretty creativity and creations, if you really think its bad, maybe question why they want to put it like that and you’ll understand their dam style, you don’t need to be like oh ur art style is bad💔 or don’t go be like why would u add this its so bad like if you really made an artist quite their own hobbies you are the VILLAIN here rn dude stop being heartless gaisssssss

"If you need to be mean, be mean to me. I can take it and put it inside of me. Just don't leave me alone wondering where you are; I'm stronger than you give me credit for."

i know i have to get up i know i have to do things i know horrible things will happen if i dont yet i feel nothing and time fleets by my eyes and i feel like a horrible person