Cardboardinosaur - 🌖

i am nooooot locked the fuck in. im locked the fuck out. call the locksmith

even a forehead kiss would have a maladjusted freak like me bricked the fuck up. to be honest

Finished piece I’ve been doing for a week :) thoughts on what this kind of style should be called?

grug hate two factor authentication. first grug have to remember password. then grug have to point out which cave painting has birds. now they want grug to hunt and gather new thing called numbers. grug won’t do it grug miss the bird paintings grug was getting pretty good at birds.

Vent

It feels really weird to not have my art be apart of my daily life anymore. I drew last night and it became boring to me, which is so unlike the person I was a few years ago who drew for hours without stopping at a time. I’m not that girl anymore and I would barely consider myself “burnt out.”

I was telling my dear friend today that what I expected after high school isn’t really what I envisioned. As much as I knew there would be hardships and difficulties, what I didn’t expect is the routines of it all. My friends and I created a bucket lists for us after graduation and here we are a month away from our 1 year anniversary and we’ve completed just 1 thing on that list.

I love my friends. I cry listening to PPP by Beach House on the way home because I miss how we were. After lots of shitty people and mishaps we became an actual group, connected again when I thought I had permanently lost that. It felt so good to feel belonging again, and I still feel that.

I admitted to my beautiful friend that I felt that I needed to be better one on one with people, with friends. I believe I’m doing that, though it is hard when everyone is miles away and they’re doing what they saw. And I’m still here. Running errands, doing homework, falling asleep with an open book on my chest, getting new glasses and coffee runs to cafes with friends. Because in the moment it feels “adult-y” and when I’m at home pondering, I feel older than everyone else around me.

I look at my sisters and feel miles away when in reality they were born just years before or after me. I feel like that one lyric; I’m related to Mitski’s “tall child” and I am stomping around like Godzilla.

Recently having some medical issues that come out of nowhere, I’m stuck in the middle of a war of taking care of myself or self-destructing. I yell at dinner conversations, yell at the water not getting warm in time and still it’s not enough screaming for me. When things like this arise, I don’t think about how stressed I could’ve been and what I could’ve done to have prevented it, my automatic thought is where did it all go wrong? Memory already worsening, my parents ask what I ate that morning and nothing comes to mind. When they ask when I last did the dishes, I realize I don’t even remember what I did that week.

Everything for me is a blur, and after an article I read on Substack I realize my inner child is starved. She remembers trivia facts, birthdays, who wore what and when I think back on the last couple years I find a few things bobbing around. No wonder I find joy in babysitting the kids on my street; no wonder I can recall everything that was said in my art history class and continue on for hours about Mary Cassatt. I have to remember this is all what my inner child lived for, new information to spark my brain up like a firework.

A few weeks back I texted a girl I haven’t talked to or seen but somehow still crush on (severely) and I can remember what it was like to talk with her everyday. I journaled in a way that that was what it was like to feel something, anything again. Being a picky eater but not a picky person. Evaluate and judge what’s right and wrong but taking the risks that fire up my brain. So I get closer and grind to figure out that one day I’ll be closer to that nirvana. My friend told me it’s better to go ahead and do the hard stuff that leads to a better end, that way it feels like forever at least.

Ok I go now I may review a trilogy I’ve read.

Roma

Missing my people so much it’s not even funny I love them all so so much it’s so funny bc sometimes I start hyperventilating a little bit. Why does my body react that way. Which begs the question ab myself is why does my body react in ways that isn’t normal, especially ab happiness. I made a comment to my sister, jokingly, recently that whatever she touches she collects and I realize. The same is literally true for me. I look at my bedroom and almost all the books I like I have collected. Even gifts from others I have collected. Recently I started collecting pizza tables (????) and I have the uncontrollable urge to just keep adding to it. Whenever I reread a series I like and I have to walk around like my mind isn’t reeling rn why does that happen??

this is like the only time its appropriate to call eyes orbs. those thangs are quite honestly ponderable

Adam seeing Maybe Ronan Lynch for the first time

well you see. actually. (deletes post)

Babysitting is so weird bc why are u telling me im your favorite person/babysitter ever. I am just a. Person. They don’t understand that yet, whatever that may be called. I have watched you grow up and I’m your everything but you are just a huge part of my heart now. Wth