Dear viewers,

The drawing that you see here is based on something that happened to me about a week ago.

Back before I posted that artwork of  Railfox99’s fursona along with the thank you note that I wrote to him, something happened during my morning swim at the pool over in Ludlow.

I think that it might have been a daydream, or perhaps a figment of my imagination, but I remember it just like it happened yesterday…

A legless, ghostly, shadowy figure that looked just like my father, and had huge, white eyes that would turn red when it was about to strike me while I was swimming suddenly materialised out of thin air and tried to strike me down with its fists. Every time I dodged a blow and pushed myself through the water, Ollie (who was in his fat form at the time, as he is shown in this drawing) would appear with a steely glare and have his hand raised to say “Stop”, and every time the figure’s fists hit him, it was blown back by his protection, causing Ollie to grow bigger and a yellow aura to appear around him whenever he grew more larger and powerful, as well as more fatter in his belly with its popped-out outie belly button. I have come to think of this event as a metaphor for me letting go of both my dad and of the past, as well as all the pain and stress and trauma that I’d gained from both of them. Not only that, but back then it had given me an idea to give Ollie another ability — the power to grow super big, making him at his most confident and bravest whenever he goes macro.

Now, I must explain to you the factors that caused this to occur:

Back when before I found this site — my dad was really horrible, but he wasn’t like it because he wanted to be; he never really meant to hurt me, and he didn’t do it out of malice, or anger, or because he felt like it… he was just a sad, tormented soul, haunted by his own past of being treated badly by my grandparents. They weren’t exactly good to him in his childhood, and after abusing him for as long as she could alongside my grandfather, my grandmother started to waste away. She got sick, and she let it kill her slowly. She had wasted away what was left of her life after hurting my poor father until he’d grown up and left them both, and she’d died to it… she’d died to whatever illness she had caught.

My grandfather was no better than her either. He’s in a sanatorium now, over in Poland, with a new girlfriend. This has aggravated my mother (who is usually nice, kind and optimistic) very much, and she wishes he was dead. My father doesn’t want to know about him either. I guess you could say that neither of them are willing to forgive him. Given that he was horrible to my father, I can understand that, and I realise now that it was never truly Dad’s own fault that he himself was like he was back then. I’ve come to forgiven him, and while I can honestly tell you all that I can’t change him, I may be able to change myself and get past my own traumatic experiences.

But my grandparents are not the only ones who hurt him… I hurt him too. No one is at fault for what happened, really, but I am haunted by guilt for having caused this to happen: I drove my mum to call the police on my dad, and every time I think about it, I wish that I hadn’t. But then, we were all just stressed out and under a lot of intense pressure back then, we’d been thrown into a situation we hadn’t ever wanted to be thrown into. I’d been diagnosed as autistic in my earlier childhood, even though I didn’t really have any special needs; that’s because the governments in the UK are really stupid and the morons within them have no brains and don’t actually think about what they do half of the time. I felt like I was in prison with this diagnosis, but now, being in art college, I find that I am no longer held back or imprisoned at all, nor do I have to go to a school that’ll constantly fail me day by day — I feel free, and this college that I’m attending is doing the opposites of the primary schools and high schools of today.

I am now older than what I was back then, and expect myself to be much wiser. I am not the same young man who I once was, but I am happy that my father is now much better than he originally was, and I am taking my own steps in working back towards becoming more happier again myself, towards becoming more carefree, towards becoming less burdened by things that I cannot change, and towards letting go of the past…

What happened back then doesn’t matter. What matters is what I choose to do now, and I choose to move forward and let go of my own pain, suffering and trauma.

These events have shaped me into the young man that I am now, and I am happy that I can at last overcome my past troubles and let them all go.

My story does not conclude from here. Instead, it shall continue to be told, until I can tell it no more, but now seems like a good time to leave off of telling it for now. Expect me to churn out more art in the following days, and allow my tribulations to slip away out of sight in their own little box that I have forever packaged them away in.

Thank you for reading.

- Kindest Regards, Ollie-the-Vulpine