#susitsemindtober

[blackwolfstabs]

BWS MINDTOBER 2024 ▸ Day III

Prompt: Circle

────────                                                                                  GIFs is not mine

October 3rd | "some things change, and some things won't."

“Where’s your mother in all this?”

My mother gets a bad rep. She’s an alcoholic. She’s impulsive. She’s selfish and can be extremely cruel. But she is my mother. And no matter what she’s done, I still love her.

She’s done some hurtful things in the past, some of which I can’t speak of. She’s picked work and her boyfriends over her own daughters. And had it not been for me doing what I wasn’t supposed to at 13, maybe she’d be very different. Maybe she’d be just how she was when Tara and I were convinced we were biological sisters through and through, and I was a gem in her eyes. 

She wasn’t always “bad.” She was a great mother. I remember times when she was the only person I wanted around. That was before Tara was born. And now, we rarely speak.

But there is one thing that she taught me better than anyone. 

I was 5 years old, and like every other kid, when I learned something new, I wanted to learn it on the first try. Like every other kid, when there was a process to follow, I wanted to get through it easily, because challenges were the most annoying thing in the world.

In tears, I stormed into the kitchen, where Mom was making dinner and threw down my untied shoes, which I had originally thrown across my room because I still couldn’t tie them myself after what had felt like forever. 

I shouted at her, “I can’t do it! I want you to do it!”

It was annoying and stupid. Why should I waste so much time trying to do something I can’t get right, if my mom could easily just tie my shoes for me?

Mom laughed and shook her head, “You can do it, Sam. It just takes practice.”

I didn’t want to practice, I wanted to do it and be done with it, but I could barely even get past the first step. So, that’s what I told her, “No! I can’t do it! I don’t know how!” Even though she and Dad had shown me over, and over, and over again.

She nodded, “Yes, you do. Daddy and I showed you many times.” Then, she left the counter to pick up my thrown shoes and knelt down in front of me. “Come on.”

I felt so angry at the time, but despite my whining, I let her put one of my shoes on and I watched her tie it as she explained how to do it for the 100th time. I crossed my arms in defiance, when she expected me to try again.

Then, she told me to go sit at the kitchen table. One shoe on and the other off, I did as she said and sat at the table. She met me there and put a piece of paper in front of me. 

“Here,” she pulled out a drawing compass and placed a pencil in its designated divot. She handed it to me. “I want you to draw a circle using this.” As I took it, she guided my little hand with her own, placing the tip of the compass on the paper. “Hold this here with your other hand, and move the pencil in a circle.”

I didn’t understand what drawing a circle had to do with tying my shoes, but I did it anyway. I remember having to restart a couple times because drawing compasses weren’t exactly equipped for 5-year-old hands. 

“Good!” Mom praised, when I finished, “Look how good that is! A perfect circle.”

Seeing her smile at what I had just done made me smile too. She was right, it was a perfect circle, just like I’d see in the cartoons and on patterned fabrics. It blew my mind at the time, and in the moment, I was ready to jump down from my chair and slap it on the fridge for Dad to admire when he got home.

But Mom had different plans and took the compass, removed the pencil, set the compass aside, and gave me the pencil again. “Now, draw another one.”

“Without that?” I pointed to the discarded tool.

She nodded, “Mm-hmm. Just do your best.”

And so, I did. I drew another circle, free-handed, except it wasn’t smooth or rightfully curved at all. Not like the other one. This new one was rocky and awkward, leaning to the side a little to almost give off an oval appearance. I frowned at it, but Mom praised me again.

“Very good, Sam! You drew another circle!”

I just sat back in the chair, disappointed that I had just messed up my masterpiece with that second addition. “It’s no good,” I sulked.

“Is it a circle?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Then, it doesn’t matter what it looks like,” she assured, “You knew what to do. You knew how to draw a circle, and you did it. So what if it’s not exactly how I showed you with the compass? You still drew it all by yourself, without my help!”

I looked up at her, a little confused by the point she was making. I didn’t have to be confused for long though. 

“Samantha, there are always going to be things that you are going to have to learn how to do. It’s okay to not get it perfect on the first try, or the second, or the third one. Even the millionth, zillionth one,” she’d used such terminology to put my young mind into perspective. “All you have to do is try again. If you do that, you can do anything you want. All by yourself.” 

It was still fuzzy to my ability to understand, but that didn’t stop her from encouraging me.

“Just think, by the time Tara gets to be your age, you’ll be a big girl. You’ll be 8 years-old, and you’ll be able to tie your shoes without even thinking about it. Then, you can teach her.”

Tara was only a year at the time. She had so many things to experience, and I would be there to help her learn through them all. It sounded like a good idea, and it was enough for me. So, I nodded, “Yeah! And then I’ll be able to draw the best circle ever in the world, ever! I can teach her that too!”

Mom nodded and kissed my head, “You can teach her anything, Sam. Anything and everything you want.”

It’s been 20 years since then. Yes, I can tie my own shoes now; I can even do it blindfolded if you asked me to. Still can’t draw a perfect circle without help, but that’s fine with me.

Because I’ve learned that there’s a perfect way to everything… and then there’s my way.

[dreaming-vngel]

mindtober day 25- the eternal “dance” between light and dark

[killianart]

Mindtober, day 1 – 6 🌟🌱💙💗

[giuranza]

One

[maloli]

[witchw0lf]

Doing susitse.art's Mindtober todays word prompt was "holding"

[onsvaltti]

Mindtober 2023

Day 2

"one"

Derek from my Osastolla comic! :) (Also on insta.)

Derek has some trouble making sense what is real and what is not, so his mind is pretty broken.

[12-toads-in-a-trench-coat]

day 1 of susitse's mindtober! today's prompt was 'me'

god this is so rushed //eyestrain/bright colours slightly body horror @susitseart

[dlocomix]

Mindtober Days 27-31

[yogurt-bird]

Mindtober 1-3

[blackwolfstabs]

BWS MINDTOBER 2024 ▸ Day VI

Prompt: GLASSY

────────                                                                                  GIF is not mine

October 6 | "your heart was glass, I dropped it."

“What about my ending?”

What is a victim? Most people would argue a victim is someone harmed or killed by someone of malicious intent.

What is a villain? The same people would say a villain is that person of malicious intent.

This is the way it’s always been.

Not anymore. Today, people take the villain and have mercy. They claim, “it’s not their fault.” They blame it on background, mental illness, or insecurity. If that’s the case, then isn’t a victim and a villain the same thing?

Picture this: a person who was innocently associated with said-thing gets their feelings hurt, bullied, or shamed for their preferences. This person is a victim. They’ve been harmed by an external stimulus that’s prompted them to feel or behave a certain way. This person then forms a detailed, correlated plan as a resolution to make them feel better. They get another person involved, then another person, then another person, and soon enough they’re running a group of interconnected people all through their sole orchestration. This person manipulates, designs, and executes a series of events that bring suffering and possible death to those who don’t realize they’re part of the plan. Oh, but it’s okay, because there was precision placed to keep specific people alive. Then, the plan is revealed—at the end of the line, the edge of a cliff, the finale that’s often what everyone anticipates. 

The plan is to murder, frame, and get away scott-free. They’ve caused death. They’ve broken trust. They’ve destroyed lives. But it’s okay, because they were hurt first. They were the victim.

I’d call that person a villain. Actually, no, they can’t be the villain, because the framed person is the villain and never realized it. The victim tells them so and insists it’s because of a biological component that entices revenge and behavior that’s inherently malicious. Hold on, wouldn’t that make the villain the victim again? It’s not their fault for being born that way. So, then the mastermind is the villain again, okay, great.

The victim tries to escape, is successful, but knows there’s only one way to break the plan: kill the villain. So, the victim kills the villain. It’s a happy ending, where the victim becomes the hero and can be this strong example to all the other victims out there, right?

Please, that shit only happens in Disney movies. The victim isn’t a victim, they’re the villain. The very first victim was always the victim, grooming their villain to play cat and mouse with their roles to not only fool themselves but everyone else.

The villain was the victim, who killed their villain in self-defense. Not true. They killed their villain because it felt right. How does killing every feel right?

Only a villain would say such a deranged thing. What a shame they're so fucked in the head, society says.

So, it’s confusing. What is a victim? What is a villain? Aren’t they the exact same and that’s how they meet in the first place?

I met Richie. He found me. The forbidden romance of the victim and the villain. It’s inappropriate, is it not? He did so much for me, and it hurts for me to say that I was truly in love with him. He made me feel wanted, loved, safe, normal… He didn’t make me feel like a villain, a predator, a monster, a mistake…

Then, it all changed in one night. Betrayal. Deception. Hate. What a tragedy.

Everything was so transparent. Like glass. Everything was either careful and fragile or reflecting and wary. Like glass.

Richie Kirsch is the victim, they say. Pinned to the floor, stabbed 22 times in the chest, just to weakly whine through innocent tears… “What about my ending?” He’d worked so hard for 6 months to execute it flawlessly.

I'm the villain. My heart is black as black, and I didn't spare him any mercy as I hissed through blood-stained lips… “Here it comes.”

Then, I slit his throat.

And everything that had been built up for 6 months shattered. Like glass.

The victim. The villain. It’s all champagne problems.

a/n: idk if this makes any sense.

[dreaming-vngel]

mindtober day 20- “eclipse”

[killianart]

Mindtober, day 7–15 (but I skipped a few days 🤧💜🌌🌟)

[giuranza]

Once If you wanna check out the art I'm doing for @susitseart's mindtober prompts, please check them out on my ig (@/giuranza) as I don't intend to post all of them over here, ty!

[0nlyaby]

Day 4: Bloom / Día 4: Florecer.

Y la lista:

[perfusio]

Mindtober Day 1 : My own