Sad Thoughts - Blog Posts

I have learned silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet strange, I am ungrateful to these teachers.

— Khalil Gibran

The wars will end and the leaders will shake hands, and that old woman will remain waiting for her martyred son, and that girl will wait for her beloved husband, and the children will wait for their heroic father, I do not know who sold the homeland but I know who paid the price.

— Mahmoud Darwish

Because one thing has become clear to me: you can cope with all the horror as long as you simply duck thinking about it – but it will kill you if you try to come to terms with it.

— Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front

And then there are days when I can't even recognise myself.

— where shadows live, on days I feel lost

This was the trouble with families. Like invidious doctors, they knew just where it hurt.

- Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

IMAGINE THIS (Sad Head-canon)

So imagine that Will died on a quest and his body was somehow brought back and he was buried and this happened- Nico summoned Will's ghost using the McDonald's Happy Meal. Nico broke down completely and yelled at Will for going on that dam quest. Will then tried to comfort Nico by wrapping his arms around him, forgetting that he was a ghost. His arms went through Nico's body. They both realised the sad truth that they would never be as they were before.

I once was at a religious gathering with my parents (none of us are religeus but our grandparents who where with us are). The priest there said behind the back of my cousin who has an autoimmune disease that she deserved it as recompense for some grand plan (this is a hindu temple so past lives or godly forms or some other bullshit excuse). We own the temple so he was fired imeadeatly, but in the moment there were some temple goers who agreed with him, and my dad turned to me and we shared a communal moment of "lets get out of here" so we left with some excuse and drove off.

——

Here’s a tiny comic, that turns out to be pretty large on tumblr. Sorry for that. Also the quality is shit but I had to hurry up with this and I am too lazy to deal with tumblrs resizing, so… hmmm it’s the idea that counts, right?

Happy New Year!

twenty-eight laps around the sun later,

mercurially aligned,

I am

refusing to fall

apart this time—

at least,

not as if I haven’t walked this path before.

I know

I know

I can survive this one.

I can breathe

through

it— it’s

less than 12 months

from the day

you asked me to marry you

and it hurts so bad I can’t breathe

but I

am not going

to give up

or to kill myself over this

bullshit.

not your bullshit,

not again.

Who doesn't? 😭😢🥺

did you guys know i miss the owl house did you guys know i miss the owl house did you guys know i miss the owl house did you guys know i miss the owl house did you guys know i miss the owl house did you guys know i miss the owl house did you guys know i miss the owl house did you guys

you'll be vibing, in a good place mentally and then a friend will do or say something and then suddenly you're 11 years old again and you're wondering why your friend didn't invite you to her birthday party and you're crying to your mom wondering why none of you're friends seem to like you very much and you pray that you could be different (i.e. normal) but the night just greets you with like your friend, with silence

Picture source: Pinterest

👽🌧

I don't think you understand that I will never understand why you've been like this for so long

I'm crying about the closeness lines

babe are u okay ur crying about closeness lines over time by olivia de recat again

The saddest thing in the world is actively watching a close friend and yourself slowly grow apart while knowing there is absolutely nothing you can do about it

𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬- 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰, 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝

I think my whole life ive been day dreaming.

I remember the way the sun touched my face as I watched my father walk away over and over,

The smell of the air mixed with the flowers in fresh spring as my mother fell apart once again and left me to pick up every piece.

As a child I was always comforted by the “what ifs” that id pull from my imagination.

What if they love me enough tomorrow? What if they read me a story while I sleep?

I felt the wind flowing through my hair and the stars make just enough light to illuminate the path my father ran too with me lingering behind in the dark.

The sounds my fingers made caressing my mother’s cheek trying to make her pain a little less while mine was bleeding out the seams.

What if im the reason? What if I made them hate the life God has given them?

I have never known the truth of unconditional love because my love has always needed a reason, an act of service when I was only learning to tie my shoes.

I was raised in a house full of anger, distortion and begging,

They say you take parts of your childhood with you into adulthood but all I have seemed to hold onto is the rage. I’m unable to love and in return unlovable.

I am sewed together with tiny memories of all of the times I was closed behind my bedroom door asking God to show me himself.

I chase the broken because im only worthy if im fixing something and I am capsized in the grief of others.

I have a tendency to be abrasive and wear my father’s agony on my shoulders like a shield.

What if I disappeared and my heart stopped beating?

The worst thing is to see the one you loved and trusted go like the others

Amazing and Heartbreaking

WHAT LURKS BENEATH Comic

It's the spooky season...! To celebrate, please enjoy this 7-page horror comic featuring Brook that I made for "WHAT LURKS BENEATH", a One Piece horror zine full of incredible talent. After sales are only open until the end of October so please consider checking it out and grabbing a digital copy absolutely PACKED with amazing art & stories, and some of the nicest merch I've seen from a zine!

"A House with No Mirrors"

I live in a house. A house with no mirrors.

What am I hiding from, you may wonder. What is it that I don't want to see?

Is it the way my mother's smile quivers when she's been hurt? Or the violent anger my father's fist holds?

Is it them I'm avoiding? Or… is it me?

Do I hate the curve of my nose, the same nose I share with my father? Or is it the hint of my mother's cheekbones, that I can't stand?

Do I despise the oppressor or pity the victim? Do I…. fear them? Fear becoming them? Or do I fear myself?

Which category do I belong to? Which one am i? A perfect blend of the oppressor and the oppressed. Where do I fit in?

In the broken cracks, where the world forgot, or perhaps, chose to forget, about me because it's so much easier to ignore than accept that there's a gaping flaw in the system. Where at some point, I too forgot the feeling of a warm embrace and loving eyes. And with the broken shards of time, I forgot my own name. Just like I hope to forget my own face.

I look in the mirror. Who am I looking at this time? A monster? Or his slave? Whose face do I see more?

Whichever one it is, I know for a fact that it's not my face that I see but theirs.

Always theirs.

I was cursed from birth. I was cursed to carry the DNA of two contradicting forces. They've blended inside me, melded as one just to create a disgusting mess of weaknesses, insecurities and existential issues. I wouldn't know where I began and they ended, what part of me even belongs to myself.

I had the misfortune to live among thieves. They stole my childhood, my sanity and now my face.

Heads turn away refusing to accept that mistakes were made. I guess I inherited that as well.

I hide away.

In moments of despairing sadness, I see my mother's lifeless smile instead of mine and in moments of rage… well. I don't like to look at that.

I wish I could see my mother's curiously intelligent mind. Or my father's sharp, observing gaze. But…

I live in a house with no mirrors because I'm afraid of what I might see this time.

I fade away.

~Me

When did I get so grey. Or maybe I have always been this dull shade of nothingness. I'd like to think that I was once an exuberant yellow just to have something to compare with. To know that I've moved and changed and grown, to know that I had once tasted the sun,that I held it in my gentle hands and for once I didn't burn. But that's a lie isn't it? A comforting one but a lie nonetheless. Maybe I've always been grey.

~Me

I don't feel so good today.

I feel a strange, ancient ache in my soul. An aged feel to my rigid bones that once held the weight of the earth and the sky. Now they wish to rest, to turn to dust. They have endured enough weathering. I feel nostalgic for a life I have never lived, for a life I wish I lived. I suppose I do understand this humane desire. The soul was never meant to stay on the earth. It was meant to rise. And here, now, it is bound to, shackled to this body and inadvertently, to this world,held taut by the unyielding chains of gravity. I yearn for the day I return home. Up there.

I don't feel so good today and that's fine.

~Me

"The Sparrow in my Head"

There is a little sparrow in my head that likes to cause a mess.

It distracts me with its shrill screeching

that bounces against and vibrates my skull.

It flaps its tiny wings and causes a flurry in my head, like a feral hurricane.

It drills against my brain and causes pulsing migraines

and sometimes it nips at my eyeballs.

There is a little sparrow in my head

Shackled and caged behind bars of steel.

It is bruised,broken and battered

And its wings are clipped.

To set it free somebody will have to crack open my skull.

"It's not fair", cries the sparrow.

"Oh but it is fair", I reply,

"Just like, a head for a head,

a tail for a tail,

an eye for an eye,

and your freedom for mine."

The little sparrow gives a sad chirp and droops its wee head.

"Do not despair, little bird", I consol,

"One day you'll be able to fly,

high above, higher than the sky.

For just like in the circle of life,

the day your life begins,

is the day mine ends.

So chin up and wait some more,

just a little more time."

There is a little sparrow in my head that weeps tears of patience.

There is nothing else it can do.

~Me

*Inspired by Bluebird by Charles Bukowski*

“The Strongest Of The Strange”

you won’t see them often

for wherever the crowd is

they are not.

those odd ones, not many

but from them come

the few good paintings

the few good symphonies

the few good books

and other works.

and from the best of

the strange ones perhaps

nothing.

they are their own

paintings

their own

books

their own

music

their own

work.

sometimes I think

I see them – say

a certain old

man sitting on a

certain bench

in a certain way

or

a quick face

going the other way

in a passing

automobile

or

there’s a certain motion

of the hands

of a bag-boy or a bag-girl

while packing supermarket groceries.

sometimes

it is even somebody

you have been

living with

for some time –

you will notice a

lightning quick

glance never seen

from them before.

sometimes

you will only note

their existance suddenly

in vivid recall

some months

some years

after they are

gone.

I remember

such a one –

he was about

20 years old

drunk at 10 a.m.

staring into a cracked

New Orleans mirror

facing dreaming

against the walls of

the world

where

did I

go?

~Charles Bukowski

When the gay panic starts kicking in:

Is it just me or has life narrowed down since 2020.

It feels like I've lost the world around me and lapsed into a hallway that I can't leave.

I hope I die in 2069 cause that would be a great joke.

Ya know, just like my life.

I'm wishing for either life or death because I am tired of being stuck somewhere in between.

Simply existing.