Life Story - Blog Posts

I feel like I need to say this little story.

So this isn't related to fandom stuff, although maybe you could use it for childhood head cannon stuff. It's just a weirdly fond memory of mine for my childhood and so I grip tightly to them since I barely remember my childhood thanks to ✨trauma✨ but I vividly remember a little thing my mom would do for us for St. Patrick's day. Now my family has a lot of Irish ancestry, so St. Patrick's day is meaningful to me as a lot of Irish culture is. I'm pretty sure this isn't a practice that other's do but yeah.. enough of me prattling, I'll explain the little tradition. The night before St. Patrick's day, my sisters and I would leave out one of our shoes outside our door before we went to bed that night (I always remember leaving out my left shoe) and then the next morning, there would be candies within the shoe. I always loved this but anytime I ever told someone about it that wasn't my family, I would just get weird looks. I think it was simply a little something my mom started to do for her daughters to give us a reason to remember smaller, less celebrated holidays... or maybe it was to give us something happy to do during her and dad's divorce. I remember being pretty bummed about missing that little tradition one year because St Patrick's fell on his weekend, but when we came back, I was overjoyed to see that one of our shoes were out and it was filled with candy. The tradition still continues and I do admit, if I ever have kids of my own someday, I'd love to do this tradition as well.

Also, doing some research about this, apparently leaving shoes outside your bedroom door is a thing for others but it's mainly for like Christmas or in Poland's case, it's a pagan midsummer tradition. You learn something new everyday lol!

I remembered a funny conversation I had with someone, and thought it'd make for a fun redraw. It was during one of my darker chapters, and gave up on holding punches.

I know this post is meant to be silly but I wanted to explain something about this little European robin and its meaning to my family for no specific reason.

When I was two and 29 days a big sister of a seemingly healthy baby brother, he suddenly was rushed to the hospital and died along the way. He had cardiomegaly, in other words: an enlarged heart. This was because of a congenital heart defect. He was really strong, so he endured it for 29 days and he never really gave a sign of discomfort, at least, not until it was too late. I, personally as a two year old, didn't get much of it. I have some faint memories of me peeking from behind the door at my parents sitting devastated on the couch. I remember running up to them, crawling into my mother's lap and comforting her.

So what has this bird to do with all this, well… My mother once told me a story of a robin, not long after my little brother's death. There was a robin that was sitting in front of the sliding doors to the backyard. My parents didn't mind it at first, but when it flew with them when they walked to the extension of our house and back, they knew it was some sort of sign.

The years continue and every time it's either 9 October or 7 November there appears a robin, in our backyard, frontyard, if we go out to do something fun to clear our minds. There's always a robin.

So yes, this bird is silly, cute and a little obese, but it gave my parents a feeling that everything was fine with my little brother, wherever he might be.

I wrote this for a freshman year English assignment

December 26 I opened my eyes

a sweet summer sky full of wonder

a sparkling shore swimming with marine life and acute awareness

At two years old I tried to join my sister's class

they said I wasn't ready; I could have been ready

Six years old I was a student

reading novels, doing advanced math, a social butterfly

mom's perfect daughter

i couldn't have been ready

Twelve, a hurricane

waves hitting, a freight train shattering every bone in the body

disease striking the world, pain striking my mind like no twelve year old should know

my first thoughts of ending it, deep cuts engraving once perfect skin

tears shed, friends lost, incessant dread lurking as the Grim Reaper breathes down my neck

Fifteen, will I ever be ready

newfound friends, love, a new sense of belonging

but still i bleed, they scream, and together we weep, knowing I could have been more

i am drowning in that ocean, burning in the sun

look what's come of be, a wreck, a disaster in the making

I wasn't ready

(I think I got a B+ on this, so ig at least my teacher liked it)

To walk on the street is like being in a library. You might choose a random book from a random shelf, or search for what you want in your favorite section. You often choose the book, judging by the coverpage you like. Then you read on the back, a short introduction of the books contence. But if you really want to know what the books about, and understand the ending, you have to open the book and read the pages. You might skip some pages from time to time, but then there is a limit to how many books you can read through your life. Just be sure they are good books. In the end there are only a few books you can read over and over, without tiring of them. Keep those books close, and give them a good ending