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wingedsiamese is another fellow New Englander, a dear furend and one TERRIFIC artist. She cranked this one out for me at AC 2004. I'm hoping to eventually get a full body version of this in color.The story:
I hate to admit something like this. I'm not very proud of it, but when I'm pushed to the limits of my tolerance, a rage comes out. It's only happened twice in my life and both times resulted in someone getting hurt, either mentally or physically. I hate myself knowing I have such a force buried deep inside me. I decided to give it a name and a face.
Meet 'Albion', the Tasmanian Devil. My rage.
Winged Siamese no longer posts to FA, but you can see her art here http://www.RedCoatCat.com
Check her out, she's awesome! >"^_^"<
Category Artwork (Traditional) / General Furry Art
Species Panda
Size 992 x 1072px
File Size 143.4 kB
Well, if it makes you feel more at ease with your admission, you're not the only one who feels this way.
My rage is deeply buried as well, and I've never (to this point) allowed itself to show completely because I know of the damage I can do if it were to happen. Every time I feel it come on - which is very infrequently - I do everything in my power to reign it back, then spend the next couple of hours a) trying to settle it down, and b) beating myself up for ever having let it show. God help me if someone EVER pushed me to the point of full realization...I can't guarantee that someone won't...be...I don't even want to think about it. *snugs & sniffles*
Perhaps it's to your benefit that you've given a form and name to your rage. And from the look of this drawing, I hope I never EVER meet Albion.
BTW, the drawing is awesome!
My rage is deeply buried as well, and I've never (to this point) allowed itself to show completely because I know of the damage I can do if it were to happen. Every time I feel it come on - which is very infrequently - I do everything in my power to reign it back, then spend the next couple of hours a) trying to settle it down, and b) beating myself up for ever having let it show. God help me if someone EVER pushed me to the point of full realization...I can't guarantee that someone won't...be...I don't even want to think about it. *snugs & sniffles*
Perhaps it's to your benefit that you've given a form and name to your rage. And from the look of this drawing, I hope I never EVER meet Albion.
BTW, the drawing is awesome!
It showed itself twice in my life. Once when me and a friend were wrestling. It had gone on for an hour and I was getting tired and wanted to stop. But he kept trying to tackle me to the ground. I told him numerous times to stop and he wouldn't let up. This went on for 20 minutes. Finally I grabbed his hand and twisted it. Broke two of his fingers and sprained something else. All I know is, he had to go to the hospital. I felt horrible.
The second time was in 9th grade home room. A bully, who had been on my case for the first 2 years of Jr High, approached the desk I was sitting at, yapping at me that someone told someone else that I said I kicked his ass during summer break. Obviously this wasn't true. The kid who told him was a trouble maker, but too much of a coward to to get in a fight himself.
Anyways, he got up in my face, saying he was going to kick my ass, pummel me, that I was 'dead' after school, you know, the typical bully bs lingo. I was furious and started shaking. He took it as thinking I was scared of him. Actually, it was adrenaline. Then he put his hand on me. That was the breaking point. I got up from my seat, leaned over the desk, picked him up by the shoulders and literally flung him backwards, over the teacher's desk, which was about 5 feet away. He was in shock as was the whole class. It was last time he ever screwed with me.
As I said, I hate myself for having this, but giving it a form and a name helps calm the beast.
I've calmed down considerably since then. Even more so, now that I moved out of Rhode Island. >"^_^<"
The second time was in 9th grade home room. A bully, who had been on my case for the first 2 years of Jr High, approached the desk I was sitting at, yapping at me that someone told someone else that I said I kicked his ass during summer break. Obviously this wasn't true. The kid who told him was a trouble maker, but too much of a coward to to get in a fight himself.
Anyways, he got up in my face, saying he was going to kick my ass, pummel me, that I was 'dead' after school, you know, the typical bully bs lingo. I was furious and started shaking. He took it as thinking I was scared of him. Actually, it was adrenaline. Then he put his hand on me. That was the breaking point. I got up from my seat, leaned over the desk, picked him up by the shoulders and literally flung him backwards, over the teacher's desk, which was about 5 feet away. He was in shock as was the whole class. It was last time he ever screwed with me.
As I said, I hate myself for having this, but giving it a form and a name helps calm the beast.
I've calmed down considerably since then. Even more so, now that I moved out of Rhode Island. >"^_^<"
Sorry to hear that. I was like that along time ago. I was telling this snotty girl to bequiet and leave me alone but couldn't so I beat her up and the teacher thought I went crazy and held me down while her aid called the hospital or some asylum to take me away.
Orderlies got there and put me in a straitjacket and told me to be studied under careful watch. I was almost admitted had it not been for my parents and assistant principle(not the main principle, he just didn't care.) My dad had to cut the straitjacket off with his knifes be brings along while my mom yelled at everyone who thought I was crazy. I would like to call it dark soul.
Orderlies got there and put me in a straitjacket and told me to be studied under careful watch. I was almost admitted had it not been for my parents and assistant principle(not the main principle, he just didn't care.) My dad had to cut the straitjacket off with his knifes be brings along while my mom yelled at everyone who thought I was crazy. I would like to call it dark soul.
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