Trembling thoughts. Coming and going, just like the people in my life.

Perhaps like those thoughts, I should just let people go, I suppose.


For the most part, the physical pain is gone.

...

Though, I think about it, and even without the stress

the pain made me think more.

Took my mind places that this cruel, dull world of covers and masks

could never, in just the blink of an eye.. a clap of the hand...


I remember a time when I used to see people that weren't real.


Raven. Hatch. Peter.

The Shadow boy.

Inky creatures, even.


I saw them at night, in my dreams, even when I drew on those silent days.


Now I'm away from the abuse. My mind practically fried to a crisp, barely keeping up with anyone.

I can't make friends.


Putting on a show and making people laugh, getting that attention for too long from so many people...

I remember why I turned to animation.

Telling stories with moving drawings... except


It's not real. The stories I tell from my dreams, can only go as far as my own knowledge and experience can...


Dreams... they expose so much about a person, like the lines that they draw...


All I ever wanted, was to make stories with others, instead of being stuck in my own little bubble.


Will it ever happen?