I've been going though more than I can handle recently. The problem is, I need to cry out my pain... but my family treats me like that damn black sheep, and I'm worried they'll try to put me back on depression pills because they like that side of me better, the fake me... I've never been good enough for my family... a clutz, a mistake, a pain, the failure, bringer of painful reminders. I put up a wall between me and them. I'm lost in their homes, lonely in their company and afraid of their judgment
I am the black sheep of my house and the spawn of the devil to my keep.
And only in the meadows and woods do I feel welcome, loved, and appreciated. Running alongside my friends, fur family, and fellow furs/scales/feathers/etc.

Here I don't have to be brave, I can just be me...





(One last thing) WHY THE FUDGE DO I DO MY BEST ART WHEN I'M DEPRESSED!!!