Colored Pencil Drawings

Dearest swirly brain,

I know that most days you hate yourself.

You hate feeling so out of control, so burdensome.

Dark fog and rapid heat consume every fold, every corner.

You want peace, or relief.

But dearest swirly brain, you are more.

You are a culmination of decades of feelings and LIFE.

Vibrancy and light and contrast.

You are always moving.

Evolving. Changing. Learning.

You are so wildly and authentically human.

Kinda wild how most people generally recognize that the "too sick to go to school, too sick to watch tv/play games" mindset our parents had was bullshit but still impose essentially the exact same rules on disabled adults and scrutinize them for enjoying low-energy hobbies while being too fatigued or in pain to work a full time job (or any job at all)

need to eat out an anxious over-achiever girl so good she sleeps for hours while i cook her food in the underwear she just came in

What I mean when I do not control the hyperfixation.

“I have so much to say to you that l am afraid I shall tell you nothing.”

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Ivan Pokidyshev Silence, 2023 Oil on canvas.

Mary Oliver, from a poem titled "White Owl Flies Into and Out of the Field," featured in A Century of Poetry in the New Yorker

To be me but never be.

Second tier. Afterthought.

A message? Maybe. Probably not.

Pretty good. Good enough.

Forever second-guessing.

Oh, you’re still here?

Definitely likeable.

Totally forgot you told me that.

One-sided connection.

Do you really know me?

Do you want to? Or care to?

Oh, I'm sorry. Just fucking call me out. That's cool.