20 years… 20 years of being on this hell called earth, and 15 years of putting smiles on people’s faces with the power of my art. I don’t know how or why I was allowed to live this long, but I’m here and that’s what matters, right?
It’s amazing really. I’ve endured years of abuse, both physical and emotional, I nearly died at the hands of a family member who still walks freely because I was too scared to call, I’ve been left behind and had to seek refuge in the house of an aunt who was no better than my mother, and I was almost homeless all because my mother wanted to turn a blind eye when I was on the run from my aunt.
I’ve done a lot of bad shit as a kid. I’ve been labeled a theif, a liar, a smartass, a spoiled brat, a retard, and above all, my only saving grace through the years was being smart and doing good in school, even though I had my slip ups and I was sometimes too lazy or uncaring.
I’ve endured years of depression I had trouble explaining and had my depression mocked and spit at, and with my ADHD + Autism combined, my depression left me as a broken shell who was lost, void of most of emotion, and could only go with the flow until he realized he had to fight back and carve his own path.
… Really, in spite of all my bads, how was I allowed to live? Why wasn’t I struck by lightning, or had been murdered, or hell, why couldn’t I work the courage to throw myself at death’s door? I don’t think I’ll ever understand why I’ve been allowed to live past high school or even live to see hope of a better life. But, I suppose if I’m really suppose to be here, then I’ve only this wish:
I just want to be able to keep doing what I love while maintaining a stable life. A house, food, heat, clothes, water, a job, sketchbooks, pencils, video games, anime, and the internet. That’s all I need to keep me happy and to keep spreading joy through my art. If I truly am to be of this world til death of old age, then my wish is to always have these things so I may keep pressing forward.