the utter loneliness of having putrefied cough and christmas time just drives me into this unbearable realm of sheer unhappiness i can't even describe. i am missing people who do not care for me at all. i am ready to die for them. and they are not concerned. it's okay, though. Shin is very much used to being underrated especially in emotional matters since he acts as though he doesn't feel anything most of the time. well surprise, guys. i feel everything.
i feel the water in the pond miles away from here. i feel mourning children raped by their parents. i feel my bed. i feel your soul. as some have said, i am very sensory most of the time and i notice things that are usually just left ignored. (whoa there. so much for self-appreciation).
the cold December breeze has finally gone within my nerves and i am afraid of not being able to actually have this rare, warm thing they call "Joy". i want to lie in bed and have someone beside me to say awkwardly comfortable things and stuff. i want too much, i guess.
anyways, i finally got to paint in the watercolour pad i bought. the size is 12 inches by 16. and it is "too large" for me. the pressure sure got in the way as i accidentally ruined the whole picture by--i won't even say. it just sucked. the face came out perfectly from my mind, though. there's really something good coming from a doodled image before hitting the brushes. idk. still, the cold December breeze.. . . . .
|i name thee; Ugly December. (Louissa, her name, is holding a cube here in this photo.) this is just a small part of the whole image. the least ugly part, i think.|
it is christmas tomorrow and my sole plan for this day of ultimate celebration about the apparent birthday of an overratedly famous fictional character is to play dead. like a dog. or a furniture. or Michael Jackson. or a mouse pad. or. . .