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Description
I don't draw anymore really, because my mind clears and suddenly I begin to shake and I become aggressive if messed with, and my pain is brought onto others and it's on my head and then I feel bad. I feel like I turn into a demon ready to strike down anyone in her way, and I feel like people are constantly ripping at my heart without meaning to. Small things that anyone else would shrug off that stick in my head and I can't forget. Then I feel like I shouldn't exist because of how I hurt another, like my lips are stitched because I have no words that can make up for the things I've said and the pain I've caused.

It's just a vent, I guess. I wasn't meaning for it to be, originally it was a drawing of me and my friend and an awkward conversation. Then it became this.

The art belongs to me, and so does my fursona, Leah. Don't make it yours, thanks.

Description
I don't draw anymore really, because my mind clears and suddenly I begin to shake and I become aggressive if messed with, and my pain is brought onto others and it's on my head and then I feel bad. I feel like I turn into a demon ready to strike down anyone in her way, and I feel like people are constantly ripping at my heart without meaning to. Small things that anyone else would shrug off that stick in my head and I can't forget. Then I feel like I shouldn't exist because of how I hurt another, like my lips are stitched because I have no words that can make up for the things I've said and the pain I've caused.

It's just a vent, I guess. I wasn't meaning for it to be, originally it was a drawing of me and my friend and an awkward conversation. Then it became this.

The art belongs to me, and so does my fursona, Leah. Don't make it yours, thanks.