FeneticFox

You know what really pisses me off? When I let people look through my sketchbook, and they just comment on everything that is remotely weird, or nudity or gore or violence or angst. Like, no shit it's weird. My sketchbook is a real life representation of what the inside of my brain is like, and for you to just comment and criticize everything or try to turn every bit of nudity into something dirty or sexual, it's fucking irritating. That's basically insulting my mind. I pretty much try to only let close friends look through my sketchbook now, and even then they think that nudity is always something sexual, or that violence or angst is

My head is busy, it is loud. So loud I can't think. So loud I can't breathe. My brain is like plasma, parts of it moving around so fast it could catch fire. So fast you can't see it. So fast I can't function. And then it's gone, but its presence still lingers, as if it wants to be acknowledged. But I don't have the ability to truly acknowledge any of them. These thoughts are neglected, ignored, abandoned. I don't have time for them. I don't have time for thinking. Thought is an inconvenience. A waste of time. But I secretly enjoy thought. I like to ponder things, to come up with my own answers for questions that can't be