#do i hate myself?

[skade32]

Do I deserve to be happy?

— — —

(a discovery I made about myself which in turn lead to a discovery about society’s obsession with a martyr-complex)

^^^ a study I did on my my own baby photos (I tried my best guys I’m being so fr I can’t draw kids)^^^

One thing I’ve noticed recently is that I look rather young for my age. Now granted, I still AM young but as I’m reaching the point of adulthood I’m starting to notice how I’m not losing the same features my peers have long grown out of— my round cheeks, my feathery soft baby hair that has yet to lose its youthful pallor, my stature, my flexibility, etc. all things I’m used to and have accepted as a part of who I am— and shockingly I also noticed that in no way am I insecure about the way I look. I chose to be positive about it and grateful for the little things that make me who I am. Just how the converse traits like looking older with scruffy beards, course salt and pepper hair and twinkling eyes are also positive traits.

As I’ve mentioned my transition into adulthood, I’ve been thinking a lot about identity and realizing I don’t know a lot about myself and this is one of the things I have recently realized and I really feel the need to express it because I’m excited to have a piece of the puzzle that is me and I really want to share it with the world but I’ve found that there often isn’t a positive connotation to how people view themselves.

Especially online when people write a self-reflective post, usually exhibiting traits of self-depreciation and such a viewpoint skews the frame of mind of the reader to the point where a simple observation such as my own taking a positive or even a neutral place in my self-esteem seems overtly narcissistic.

I’m kinda just ranting into the void at this point but I’ve just been thinking about this idea for some time and I think I need to get it out into the world so I can finally relax and let it go, knowing my revelations will not be lost to the chaos that is my mind.

Recognizing that I have a youthful appearance, and that I don’t necessarily despise that trait initially made me feel strange and insecure about my own confidence which is truly ironic. Something tells me that my experience with the oxymoronic attitude is unfortunately more universal than not. And it’s made me think about the implications behind the way that we as a society have chosen to assign negativity towards things like confidence and self-respect despite the hollow encouragements of posters and self help books adorning our guidance counselors’ offices.

Are we so corrupted that we starve ourselves of love and affection just to savor the idea that we deserve such things?

Is it possible that we have been unintentionally feeding each other’s anxieties and insecurities by projecting our own into the world? Have we unintentionally harmed those around us in an attempt to stave off the feelings of selfishness that haunt us every night? Do we crave so deeply to be needed, to be wanted, that we present ourselves as a thing that we despise despite not necessarily believing the things we say about ourselves? Do we simply say them because we don’t want to address the fact that we don’t beleive them? Are we all just trying to diminish ourselves every day because we can’t stand the idea that we might actually like ourselves, because we’ve been conditioned to think that anything positive is a selfish and undeserved benefit only fit for a person who is so humble and self-sacrificing that they would never accept such an idea anyway?

Do we earn the right to deserve love? Even if it diminishes the ability to experience love in the first place?

[notelizapancakes]

someone tell me why i keep poisoning myself with milk every morning when i’m lactose intolerant.

[c00pswhore]

got an 87 on my final!!!

[autisticgoo]

Finally saw a video of someone doing the full Wednesday dance and to the correct song!!! Except the comments were full of "This isn't dancing it's waving your arms" "only Wednesday looks good doing the dance" "you're too old to be doing this". I hate humanity...

[the-real-google]

To celebrate pride month I've decided to make a part 2 of the killing transphobes post since it was given a community warning. (🚗🔨⚒️💥)

LIMITED TIME OFFER:

For every note this gets I will kill one (1) acephobe AND one (1) arophobe with my bare hands.

[centralgardenerd]

me saying i hate red then having my theme all red

[m-le]

Sometimes it’s just late in the night and im suddenly convinced that I can start any hobby at the same time with the right level of commitment and have it all go well.

I’m setting myself up for doom and also kinda ignoring my studying

But yeah, I’d be a great dm for a original dnd campaign

Maybe it will make its way out of my notes and dreams lol

[lovelenivy]

mouse bites™

[amaliaofnassau]

i just registered myself for a half marathon, what's wrong with me?

[mosslingg]

my contribution to the selfshipping community 🫡

[bigfatbreak]

pressing the envelope.

[gigizetz]

Antinous sketches

I will redesign him a bit for Wisdom saga because his old design looked too much like Kaeya from genshin impact. Still keeping the eyepatch though, that's my favorite part of his design.

For his design I was mostly aiming for this intimidating, vain, kind of brute hunter aesthetic. I'm not really used to drawing manly men so he'll be quite the challenge to animate.

[gatoburr0]

I HATE how this turned out WITH A PASSION.

[the-skin-inthe-bath-is-mine]

In the middle of making the twins birthday presents and started thinking about how I should make both my parents blankets for Christmas

[nixiecat]

the "shave your pits" guy is back in my notes and this time is being transphobic to my followers so it's pit posting time again!!!

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.