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Wouldn’t it be Funny?
2 years ago
Wouldn’t it be funny if I posted any of the art I’ve been sitting on, which includes both shit drawn by me and gorgeous artwork drawn by other people?
Wouldn’t it be funny if I actually drew things well? I keep complaining about my ass not being able to draw or even have a consistent style or have any idea what anatomy is or my lack of ability to generate original ideas or dissatisfaction with my OCs and how they’re designed and how I use them or any other issues I could easily prattle off about, so why not try to actually learn, right?
Wouldn’t it be funny if I got my thumb out of my own ass and just fucking wrote for once in my miserable life? I keep claiming that I can’t write for shit as soon as I hit the slightest hiccups or make a single error, so why not try to prove myself wrong, or I dunno, fucking improve my skills so it’s not an issue to begin with?
Wouldn’t it be funny if I actually interacted with people in a meaningful way instead of recycling the same handful of dry comments on artwork? If I make another shitty joke about some scenario which didn’t need my input, verbally ogle a female Pokémon anthro’s giant tits, or God forbid, say literally anything I’ve said a million times because I’m a man with zero class or discernment in his tastes and will praise anything that isn’t literally illegal pornography, watersports, or has a male focus (not sexist, just don’t like ‘em), I might just go into my router settings and ban all my devices from connecting to the internet ever again.
Wouldn’t it be funny if, after celebrating a whole year of existence in art space, and now that I’m a mere 20 days from coming up on the first anniversary of the first thing I’ve put a even a modicum of effort into drawing in my entire life, I actually felt something? Is the eternal melancholy and dissatisfaction with my art, my life, and reality as a whole supposed to last through the turning of the year?
Wouldn’t it be funny if I just deleted this journal instead of posting it? After all, who’d wanna hear about some washed-up schmuck with zero artistic talents on an art-focused site and zero reach circlejerk about how oh-so miserable he is? For fuck’s sake, I could have gone to bed by now, but nooooooo, I just have to keep writing this shit. I just have to post it, and for what? So I can garner sympathy with a bunch of suckers on the internet who are supposed to feel bad for me like I’m some sort of attention-whoring leech? So I can feel some sort of dopamine when someone actually gives me an earnest response to anything I say or do? So I can entrench myself further into my misery by making myself feel bad that people are wasting their time on me?
Wouldn’t it be so fucking funny if this journal had a purpose?
Wouldn’t it be funny if I actually drew things well? I keep complaining about my ass not being able to draw or even have a consistent style or have any idea what anatomy is or my lack of ability to generate original ideas or dissatisfaction with my OCs and how they’re designed and how I use them or any other issues I could easily prattle off about, so why not try to actually learn, right?
Wouldn’t it be funny if I got my thumb out of my own ass and just fucking wrote for once in my miserable life? I keep claiming that I can’t write for shit as soon as I hit the slightest hiccups or make a single error, so why not try to prove myself wrong, or I dunno, fucking improve my skills so it’s not an issue to begin with?
Wouldn’t it be funny if I actually interacted with people in a meaningful way instead of recycling the same handful of dry comments on artwork? If I make another shitty joke about some scenario which didn’t need my input, verbally ogle a female Pokémon anthro’s giant tits, or God forbid, say literally anything I’ve said a million times because I’m a man with zero class or discernment in his tastes and will praise anything that isn’t literally illegal pornography, watersports, or has a male focus (not sexist, just don’t like ‘em), I might just go into my router settings and ban all my devices from connecting to the internet ever again.
Wouldn’t it be funny if, after celebrating a whole year of existence in art space, and now that I’m a mere 20 days from coming up on the first anniversary of the first thing I’ve put a even a modicum of effort into drawing in my entire life, I actually felt something? Is the eternal melancholy and dissatisfaction with my art, my life, and reality as a whole supposed to last through the turning of the year?
Wouldn’t it be funny if I just deleted this journal instead of posting it? After all, who’d wanna hear about some washed-up schmuck with zero artistic talents on an art-focused site and zero reach circlejerk about how oh-so miserable he is? For fuck’s sake, I could have gone to bed by now, but nooooooo, I just have to keep writing this shit. I just have to post it, and for what? So I can garner sympathy with a bunch of suckers on the internet who are supposed to feel bad for me like I’m some sort of attention-whoring leech? So I can feel some sort of dopamine when someone actually gives me an earnest response to anything I say or do? So I can entrench myself further into my misery by making myself feel bad that people are wasting their time on me?
Wouldn’t it be so fucking funny if this journal had a purpose?
