about lady gaga...

Here I am again, getting distracted from writing a fic to spew some random thoughts that tug too much at my chest right now. I’ve made the oath to not write only about pain or sadness, but to celebrate joy and whimsy too. But the size of this document is too small—I resized the window to half its size so that invisible ghosts cannot read what I think. And that feels like a betrayal to myself, in a way. Having my thoughts and feelings seem smaller.

It’s a constant battle, not knowing if I want to post this or just keep it to myself as a little secret, my own inner monologue. But I think that this site is small enough to just write whatever I want so that people do not think I’m too weird or some shit like that. And there it is again!! The word small!!! Funny how the brain works.

I was watching Lady Gaga’s Marry the Night music video and I couldn’t help but be totally in awe of her artistry. I’ve seen it before, of course, but every time I do, I always leave feeling hopeful for the world. Her artistry and uniqueness are things that should be appreciated and celebrated. Maybe I sound pretentious right now, but I don’t care. I really admire how she put herself out there like that—so emotionally raw and poetic. I think she was an outlet for queer voices and little kids who felt too out of place at the time, and she still is, in a way.

Isn’t that amazing? How art and self-expression can influence your life. I’ve also been thinking about how emotionally open you have to be if you want to connect with others in this field. I’m a firm believer in controlling how you want to portray yourself out there, especially on social media. But I think that showing your real self gets you out there even more. People love rooting for the underdog, too.

What am I even trying to talk about? I’ve lost the plot, so I’ll end the entry here. Bye.

about birthdays and oneself...

I’m finally 27!!! Kinda still can’t believe I’ve reached this age, but it feels good. It reassures me, in a way. We’re talking big numbers now (sorry if you’re older and reading this), so feeling like an adult is easier now than it was before. Not that it’s ever easy, but at least I’m starting to match the age. I guess.

I should be finishing a chapter for a fanfic now (wild, me writing fics at my big age), but here I am, writing an entry on this godforsaken blog. Who even reads this? I guess I’m doing it because it’s fun, so if you find me entertaining then my job as the court jester is fulfilled. Welcome to my world!

So yeah, the last entry was dark. But I won’t lie and say that it wasn’t true or some bullshit like that. It is true, and it might still be true for God knows how long. I wouldn’t call it sadness, because it’s not that I am sad. More like perpetual tiredness? Can that ever be cured? I was talking about it with my therapist a couple of weeks ago—that the way some people are born can shape how you grow up as a person. It’s kinda insane, right? It took my mother almost three days to bring me into this world, so maybe I was born already tired.

Therapy is insane. Having someone with whom to dissect parts of your life and apply logic to patterns and behaviors is really interesting, although kind of scary sometimes. I think it is one of the bravest things one can do—truly know oneself. You have to be stripped to the bone, and you have to be ready for that. And then, you have to “kill” your sick self to rebuild yourself again. It is insane. You’re in an arena fighting to the death, in a way.

Can you truly know yourself? I know it’s such an open question, but it’s very intriguing. What does it mean to know oneself? Is it instinct? Like a sixth sense? It almost feels like having another person inside you who dictates your feelings. The secret self.

I’ve also been thinking a lot this week about how intense life is. Maybe not to others, but I do think that I feel things very deeply. And that I try to run from that. And that I hate it. Because when I try to take things lightly and say to myself, “It’s not that deep,” I get angry. Things are deep. Maybe not everything, sure, but the beauty is in the balance! I wouldn’t change this for anything, I think. Life’s boring otherwise. Maybe I’ll have a change of heart after more months of therapy, but I don’t think I’m made for the normal life. I hate trying to have deep conversations with people who take everything as a fucking joke or not that deep. Fuck you, have a thought. Think about something. Then we’ll talk.

So yeah, here’s me delaying finishing this fucking chapter again. Cheers.

about life...

It’s so difficult to keep hoping, to keep loving, to keep living, when all your life you’ve been thinking about how sweet death sounds. How comforting. The moment everything stops and peace is finally achieved.

I never thought I’d live past 26. I’m about to reach 27 and I don’t know what to think, or how to feel. I’ve never been an active suicidal, but a passive one. I’ve thought of ways I could die. Maybe a car will run me over, or I’ll just die of a heart attack. Maybe I succumb to despair and actually do it myself.
But it’s so weird.

I don’t want to die.

I believe in this world, and what it brings. All the love, the beauty, the sadness, the ugliness. Emotions and memories, landscapes and people.

And then, why do I still (sometimes) crave death? I’ve been going to therapy for almost two months now, and although it’s difficult, I’m trying to make an active change in my life and mind. Trying to talk to myself like I would do with a loved one, treat myself with respect and be fully who I am.

But I keep dragging around those chains, the ones I can’t quite shake yet. Death feels like an omen, like a self-inflicted curse bestowed upon myself by yours truly.

When I blow those candles, what will happen? Will my life suddenly be okay? Will I beat this ill omen?

I think I’m capable. I’ve always been ready to face the bad moments and the fear. And if it paralyzes me, I believe in my own inner strength to overcome it. I will keep going on. I will keep feeling happiness, fear, love, sadness. I will keep enjoying a good movie, a sad lyric that resonates within me, a moving piece of art. For that’s what life is all about, feeling.

I won’t live a life of indifference. That’s my manifesto and my mantra. My own truth I will shout to the wind and carry dearly within my heart.

about nostalgia...

A couple of months ago, I finally decided to update the homebrew on my old 3DS. I plugged in the charger, waited for the battery to charge just a bit, and me always being so impatient, booted it up.

"HOME" by Resonance immediately started playing, and a wave of nostalgia hit me. This 3DS was the first console I bought with my own money (mind you, that money should've gone toward my studies. But hey, we're young and still can't fully grasp the severity of adulthood). As soon as I received it, I started looking for ways to install homebrew on it.

I'm gonna be real for a sec: I was a student at the time. It's not like I had a bazillion euros at my bank account, so I did what had to be done to play some games, you know.

The 3DS homebrew scene is so much fun! Games, apps, themes, emulators. You could even watch YouTube or read manga on it. It's still a cool piece of hardware with a solid catalog. Honestly, it didn't even need the 3D gimmick. But whatever, to each their own. I personally never used it. I didn't want the headaches.

So, young me starts installing everything I could. The custom themes community is alive and still releases themes for the 3DS to this day! Since I love customizing everything I own, it was only natural that I started collecting some. Zelda, Animal Crossing, Hello Kitty, stupid internet memes... until I came across a "vaporwave" theme. Some themes had custom background music, and this one had "HOME" by Resonance.

Huh, I thought. I love this song!

So I clicked download and installed it. Man, I still remember the exact colors and background for that theme, even almost a decade later. Like a frame from a film you never forget. A core memory. Late summer nights, fan working overtime, playing Animal Crossing: New Leaf under the sheets. It might seem inconsequential, like a really stupid thing to remember. But I still do, to this day.

That brings us back to a couple of months ago. I really like having everything up to date, so updating my 3DS was only a matter of time. Only this time, I had to do a hard reset. But before that, a thought crossed my mind:

"This will erase my themes too! What if I lose THE theme?"

I didn't have much time to dwell on it. I mostly go through life doing things first and thinking later. So I just went ahead and deleted everything for a clean install.

Horror.

When I went to the internet to redownload it I couldn't find the theme. No matter how much I searched, it just wasn't there. Only a few themes with HOME as the BGM showed up, and none of them were the one. At that point, I started feeling really sad, like I had just lost a part of myself. Mind you, it's just a 3DS custom theme. But to me, it represented some happy memories from my teenage years.

"But what if I could start again? What if I just install some of these themes and start making memories again?"

So I did. And even though it felt like attending my own self-made funeral, burying a stupid digital thing, I felt okay. Maybe nostalgia is a dangerous thing if left unchecked. Maybe looking back to the past for happiness, while the future remains unwritten, is something we all need to be cautious about.

Things can be okay—if we let ourselves move on.

about art...

Lately I've been thinking about art. After all I am an artist, so fork found in the kitchen.

The optimist in me doesn't want to call it what it might look like: a downward spiral. But I've been somewhat of spiralling these past months thinking about life and who I am as a person, at my core.

Art always comes at the forefront, I've been drawing since I was a child. I remember my mom drawing me in my pajamas one morning, when I was only 5 years old. I was so fascinated by that act, of seeing me on paper, that I still remember that moment 21 years later.

My mom always said that the women in our family tended to be more on the creative side, but I didn't need my mom to tell me that. I've always felt that I was meant to do this. Like some divine calling, as goofy as it sounds. I've never been more certain of something in my life. And the moment I doubted that fact, I quickly realized how stupid I was for thinking otherwise.

This year marks my 10-year anniversary of me jumping into the world of digital art, and 5 years of me making this my main stream of income. I've had to face many challenges in my career, as well as enjoy so so many cool moments like meeting some of my biggest inspirations, interacting with other artists and even work on two video games! (which I am very, very proud of).

And although I should be happy about it (which a part of me is happy about it, cause damn) another part of me is feeling conflicted cause the way I used to interact with art will never be the same anymore.

Art for me has and will always be a form of self-expression. But it also used to be a way to cope with the world and whatever was happening in life at the moment. I've spent countless hours sitting in front of my pc just drawing whatever I wanted to draw (sometimes influenced by what was working at the moment, this is my job after all) and working on my social media presence.

Now, the years have given me the much-needed wisdom to clearly see that I was on a path ofself-destruction in terms of taking care of myself physically and mentally. So, as soon as I moved out I started to restrict myself on how I interacted with social media (stopped checking every 3 minutes for retweets or comments every time I uploaded a new piece) and started going to the gym! I still struggle with these things, but I still try. And that's enough for me!

I've lost the fuel to continue this whole ass rant but what I wanted to get at is that: it is impossible for me to keep interacting with art like I used to do when I was in a darker place mentally. The times of pumping out 10 drawings a month are now over. And it might be over in more ways than that, but those questions I'll leave them to the me in the future!

I want to leave this text with a happy conclusion, since there's enough misery for now. Even when everything seems alien to you, like you're shedding skin and you don't recognize yourself in the mirror, that doesn't mean that the one looking back at you isn't you. Despite everything, it's still you. And you can still go on and create art, even though things might have forever changed. And art is a part of my soul, and I am not willing to capitalize my soul.

I feel kind of stupid writing all of this. But I feel better after putting to text how this makes me feel. This is also an explanation to people who have been fans for years.