So, I haven’t been posting in a long time, and I’m sorry. 😣 I’ve just had so much to do for a few weeks now. Like learning to drive in a new city, learning to live by myself, learning to take care of a living being (my dog ❤️️), learning to take care of a plant (and I haven’t been doing well on that one), learning to time manage, and learning to just… adult. And go to college with good grades to maintain my scholarship (yeah, I need help in this one).

But, here it is! I posted something! Continue reading

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My Second Year On WordPress!

So it’s been a while since I posted, but for some reason, I decided to check up on this and actually post something. I saw a notification and realized… I registered two years ago on WordPress ON THIS DAY.

I mean, it was completely coincidental. Two years ago, I was bored. Two years later in the present, I was… bored.

I don’t really know what happened on my “one-year anniversary” with WordPress, but… here I am.

Over the two years here, I’ve posted a bunch of stuff. Yes, stuff – a bunch of quite extremely random stuff. So hopefully, I end up putting more stuff. Much more random stuff. 😜

Thank you so much to the people who read my posts, which can either be pretty short or super long. 😁

Love

Love is a weird thing.

To love and to be loved are both different things tied only by name.

To love is throwing yourself at another’s feet, giving up yourself completely, trusting that person to handle you well. To love is sacrificing everything for that person. It is to dedicate yourself to that person so much that everything you do is for them, for that one special person, because all your world becomes that one person.

To be loved is to trust completely in another so that the heart can open and accept love. To be loved is accepting someone and also removing the mask you hide behind, revealing yourself to someone. It is to receive and accept the love given to you by that one special person who means the world to you.

Love requires both of these things of either person in a relationship.

Unfortunately, I do not know how to be loved.

The Drawing Freak

When I was young, drawing was all about the doodling and creativity and fun. Drawing was a bunch of scribbles and spirals.

Somehow along the way, drawing to me was limited to drawing houses, flowers, grass, clouds, and the sun. There were no people. It was all about a house that lived on its own, admiring how the invisible wind swayed the grass and how the flowers danced. The clouds, fluffy, white, and plentiful, protected the house from an intense glare of the bright and joyful sun.

But I was laughed at by several people or one specific girl, so my drawings changed, and the house disappeared and all the world around it.

I drew faces now. Odd faces. Some people had no eyebrows or no ears or neither. Some I gifted with strange straight-lined necks and the others not.

I enjoyed that – even got praise and admiration from my peers and teachers alike!

But one specific girl glared at me and scoffed, saying I was always absorbed in a notebook and drawing “those people” – quietly, of course, and to her friend. But she made sure I was close enough and that she was loud enough to make my heart break.

My best friend liked my drawings and defended me when she could.

But then one specific boy said my drawings were “good enough,” and that made my heart shatter in millions of pieces my best friend and I could not put back together.

And suddenly, my notebook was gone and so was my passion and love for drawing.

And so it was for at least three years until my best friend decided that it was finally time to bring up a subject she and I had not brought up for so long that I had forgotten it.

And so began the days I taught my friend to draw.

Years had passed since that day, but since then, I could only say the both of us have been getting better with different styles. For the first time in my life on that day, I began to focus on a person’s eyes, eyelids, ears, eyebrows, neck, cheeks, nose, hair, and so much more because now I was teaching someone. Then I had to think of arms, legs, shoes, hands, bodies. And then color. Shading. Costume. Height. Characterization since every person must be different. Emotions and styles. Hand gestures, even ankles and wrists. There were also lips and eye color, skin color too.

There were details to be finalized and perfected, and there always will be because as a good artist, “you are never satisfied with your work. There will always be something you can approve.”

Banned

Do not state your political opinion. Do not state your religion. Do not stand up for anything you believe in. Do not speak  too loud or too soft. Do not go here. Do not go there. You cannot and will not go to that college. Do not wear those clothes. Do not.

Banned.

The thing about not being able to do those things I listed above is that those are the things that define you that allow you to be free. If we live in a world that claims to be advanced, that claims to be more accepting, why is it so common to have boundaries, to have limits, to have bans?

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