In a land far, far away..

Anonymous asked: Why don't you post pictures of your drawings anymore? I miss them.

I don’t use tumblr for that anymore. I’m a freelance artist, so I can’t be sharing all my shit on a website that I disagree morally with.

I am so sick of the ‘who’s the most fucked up’ competition that this website fuels. I have lost too many friends who lived their lives on this website and feeding the sick minds of damaged people, and hurting themselves without realising it. I’ve been there, done that.

I don’t judge people for wanting an outlet for their problems, but seeking it over the internet and talking to it with people who are just as messed up as each other is so unhealthy, and will ultimately end in tragedy, broken hearts and the lost opportunity to live life in the present, with really good people. People loose the chance to meet and hang with REAL people, who know their shit.

There’s a whole world out there dude. Nobody is alone, and if you’re bored enough to feel the need to seek attention and approval from strangers, then you’re doing it wrong. Even if you feel like you know someone really, really well: If you have met them over the internet, and if you don’t hang out in real life, then it’s better to just cut off ties with them and move on. It sounds hard, and you might not think you’ll ever find someone who you can be as open and honest and close with, but you can. And that’s it.

So, yeah. This is my last post that is about my personal life on tumblr. It’s been fun I guess.

Peace, yall x

Oh my GOD. I underestimate cheap wine SO BADLY sometimes when it comes to how good it makes smoking feel. OMGOD.

On my eight years old birthday, my mother noticed I didn’t smile in any of the photos she took of me that day. She had never noticed this before, because until this point she thought I was a happy, thriving child. The truth is, on that day, what my mother had seen was the begining of a life and mind about to be pushed to extreme limits. What she had seen, was the planting of a small seed inside the purest part of me, that would eventually grow, like a parasite, to transform an innocent child, into a creature of hate. This paracite almost cost me my life, and I still have no reason why it was born inside my brain to bring me to hell and back, all I know is that it was one of the best and worst things ever to have happened to me. All I know, is that it defiled a young girl, me, and at the same time, made me the person I am today. I have a lot of hate and love for something very evil, which sounds confusing, but to me, really isnt.

I don’t actually remember my eighth birthday. But I do remember the first time I saw what the darkness put into my mind. And it was not a good day. I remember nothing about the day, except the exact moment when I was with my dad, inside a motorcycle shop just a ten minute bus ride away from where I live now, that I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the surface of the shop’s window. And hated everything about it. From that moment on in my life, I was a broken child. I was only eight years old. I had experienced heartbreak for the very first time, and it wasn’t because somebody I loved had been torn out of my life, it was because mental illness had begun systematically tearing me apart.

Oh my gosh. I have had the best day, all I did was, ditch the footy and go hang out in a park called ‘princess park’ near the city and chill there with Nim, then wrote all the rest of the day, so many activities!

But, I was writing a lot about you, because I think about you mostly all the time haha, and that was nice but now I need to type some really corny stuff into this rectangle on the internet and send it to you, and hope you can sit through an excrusiatingly love drunk/ hippie sounding thing of words that I did today. Okay this is it:

Sometimes I get sad because I can’t hear you, and I can’t see you. And I want to. But today I walked past a streed called ‘cheltham street’ and it reminded me of the first time my youngest sister, Sally, had a crush on a boy. His name was David Cheltham, and he moved to sydney when sally was in grade two, and I think, a part of her really loved him in some child-like way, and I think, that might have been the first time she felt the pang in your purest part of your being they call ‘heartbreak.’ 
My first heartbreak was not like hers at all. Mine was evil, and it happened in a motorshop store window I was at with my dad. I saw my reflection. And I hated it. I was 8 years old.

From that day my heart broke a little bit every single day, because something that I now know is called: ‘body dismorphia’ planted a seed in my tiny childhood brain, and then progressively fed off me like a parasite until throughout my tiny space of time on earth until I was 18 years old, for no reason, tore my feeble brain into shreds, defiling the innocence of a child and having names given to it as it festered within me. Insomnnnia, anxiety, depression, panic disorder, self harm, anorexia, bulimia, borderline personality disorder. I’ve never told anyone all of that who isn’t a doctor or a patient of a psychological clinic.

Then, when I was still 18, I met a boy. I met a boy and fell in love with him so quickly I didn’t even know how it had happened. But it happened. And I love him stil, but now I’m 19l. And sometimes my heart still breaks a little bit some days, when the voice of mental illness talks to me in horrible ways. And sometimes my heart breaks because I’m so afraid that one day you could delete my phone number, wipe me off facebook, pretend I never existed and go on with your life. 

But even though my heart broke every day before I met you, when I first hugged you and ever since that moment, every day that I continue to know you, you sweep up all the pieces of it, put it back together and make me feel okay again. That’s just what love feels like to me, it’s when somebody makes you feel like life is an oportunity, instead of a death sentence. When someone bursts into your mind and fills it with happiness, excitement, curiosity and hope. When somebody makes you feel good, and nice, and beautiful. And when somebody makes you want to see them every day, all the time, for the rest of your time. Even if you cant.

So yeah. That’s the thing that I wrote about you. Um, and that I love you. And stuff <3