Hello. Welcome to my blog! artforthevoid@gmail.com Commissions Open!
138 posts
Latest Posts by theanonimpersonator - Page 4
@lime-green-markers
a drawing of my friend’s gemsona, rhodochrosite!
He/him please!
mark’s outfit in YES was definitely a look.I had to do a crappy sketch of it.
A message to just about everyone
Hey guys.
So i’ve realized as of late that i might be the world’s biggest asshat. I’ve actually been like this for a while???
So, I just wanted to let all of you guys know that i’m sorry. All those times i freaked out while running my askblog? Sorry.
Those times when i threw a hissy fit and thought about deleting my blog? Really sorry.
And also, to all those people that i cut off after abandoning my askblog...I’m really sorry. I feel like i used a lot of you. I didn’t mean to, but i’m still sorry.
I don’t think that there’s enough sorry that will ever fix the mess i made here.
But, just to clarify, here’s one last one:
(And to make this clear, this isn’t me crying out for help here. I don’t want you guys to think that i’m using this to provoke some pats on the back and an “it’s alright.” I don’t want that. I’ve treated a lot of my followers and askbloggers like shit, because i was a wimpy little asshole)
DOORS
The end. A concept that can be interpreted in many different ways. To you, it is the end of YOUR world. Maybe. The end of your planet, maybe? Your home? Or even, your life?
It’s understandable to think that the end ends with you. It’s all you know. “ I think, therefore, I AM.” Very intelligent words.
But I’m not here to tell you about YOUR end. YOUR end is only known by you.
This is a story about mine.
The leaves fell like synchronized swimmers. One after another, in a perfect wave, these pieces of the sky took themselves out of the puzzle of boughs. They were the colors of a flame, of a warm night, a happy(but solemn) feeling that only a loved one can give to you in a sugared kiss. A blanket was laid out before feet, socked and shoed. The leaves crackled like a fire, hissed like water poured on a stove. The feet were running. They did not want to stop the flow of movement that propelled them forward on a path, but a tired mind could not keep up. That mind, racing, running, like the feet, suddenly gave up. And there I was.
A bus roared ahead, billowing smoke out from behind. Defeat was a common word to this person, Me. I stood in the middle of the cracked street, the leaves still. I started to cry a bit. I’m lying. I cried a lot.
Out in the middle of that street, those socked and shoed feet trembled and stumbled. They turned around, heading in the direction of home.
The leaves rustled. I looked up. The squealing of tires, and then sudden pain. I heard little, and said little. And then as quickly as it came, it went. And then, I was gone.
Choir Room
There's no one in the room. A lone set of bongos sit on the floor, almost aesthetically beneath a uniform, ticking clock. Blue robes line the wall, contrasting the uncomfortable silent beige aura of the room. There are many folders that are only identifiable by the name 'Holy Week'. They seem to be in the correct order, but several folders are missing. 1, 10, 14, 20, 28, 34, 35, 40, and 0. The peeled skins of missalettes lay in a pile. They are not fresh, but they are not old. There's a white board with only one symbol on it. I can hear laughter. It's resonating from the old gym. Old lights, dim lights, chuckling about the experience of faith through a soft recorded voice played over a concerning video. It's quieter now. It's never silent. Not in a church. There's always something there, making noise. It echoes. I think that's how churches are meant to be made. So that worshippers never feel alone. Even though they are.
For @thefaceofthneedinc, who has a really nice blog. Also the mod is really sweet and supported me when I had an askblog.
Transparent things for a mock article in Graphic Des.
51016
i was listening to the song cough syrup and i was reminded of how much i HATE cherry cough syrup. every time i smell or see it, i feel like im gonna puke.
