My friend KC has always been the fun-sized, sugar-loving explosion of rainbows to my otherwise gloomy personality. She is basically my real-life proof of great things coming in small packages, and I owe her a lot for making me realize quite a number of very important things about myself, such as rainbows being possible in gradients of black. But alas, I can’t afford a fancy gift to celebrate our friendship so I just drew this thing for her.
I live under a sky without stars.
The night feels unhinged, dislocated. The air is too warm for comfort. Mosquitoes abound, but I’m not afraid of being bitten or getting sick because they would sooner die from my caffeinated blood and nicotine lungs.
I try to make sense of the past few days, not realizing that it is already Thursday. I’ve been living inside a story for almost two weeks, hibernating again within the cave of my own imaginings. A good friend asks me where I’ve been, why she hasn’t heard from me. I could only offer the flimsiest of excuses knowing that the truth would make no sense.
G fishes me out from time to time, but he is more courageous than he knows: he sits with me inside the cave, and tries to grasp the illusion that has consumed the hours. He sends me recordings for inspiration, for good luck. He sends them to remind me that I’m not alone in my madness.
The story is coming along but I’ve hit a snag, and it is absolutely frustrating. Perhaps I’m merely delaying the inevitable. Still though, I can’t wait to wake up when it’s done.
Did a little experimenting with Sai and whatnot. Even in visual art we must find our own voice, and I figured that there’s no use in me trying to shape mine to imitate someone else’s.
For the past few days, I’ve been trying to finish a piece that isn’t working out, only because I was trying to make it using a style that, if I were to be completely honest with myself, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. It’s a beautiful style, one I wish I could at least have half the talent to do. I became very frustrated at the fact that I couldn’t do it properly (or how I imagined “properly” to look like) and ended up erasing and redrawing and erasing some more, until I realized I was spinning in the same self-destructive, downward cycle that caused many of my stories to fall as aborted files inside a cobwebbed laboratory of imaginings. I became upset, but unlike when I was younger, I didn’t give up just yet. A couple of birthdays didn’t just add to my age–it added to the layers upon layers of stubbornness and grit.
So I sat down once more on my bed that needed a bit of dusting off, and thought about the clothes I had to wash, the plates that have been piling up next to my desk, the things that I have to fulfill as a responsible adult who, in all honesty, never wants to grow up. Sitting there, in the silence and solitude, I shut up all the voices in my head for once in my paranoid, obsessive-compulsive existence, and just… drew.
It’s not a masterpiece or anything. But it gave me a little bit of hope.
~Blue Popsicle~
03.08.2017
Sketches from Shayne’s Notebook
My good friend Shayne once gave me a small notebook around November last year. I would let it sit beside my bed, among a clutter of books and other journals, for the next few months, until recently when I felt it was the perfect time to open it. If it wasn’t for her, I would have forgotten how art has always been my medicine, my cure. So I dedicate these handful of sketches to our loony, ludicrous, lovable friendship.
~The White One~ // Sylas Frostmoon
~Ember Eyes~ // Avell Lunarswift
~Agent of Armageddon~ // Ellie Hollowcliffe
~The Armoured Destroyer~ // Kleinn Helstrom
~Swordmaiden of Vengeance~ // Sylvia Luceus
~Silver Dragon~ // Gennai Onaga
All characters are from WildStar, created by me and @guiltyeleven








