Have you ever met someone
And they’re so fucking perfect in every way.
And maybe they aren’t perfect to everybody, but to you they’re just absolutely amazing.
The way they laugh and smile and talk and think and look and just everything about them and everything they do just keeps amazing you.
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im like
literally choaking on happyness
the worst feeling about trying to draw is being a mediocre artist. You realize you’re not terrible and family and friends who can’t draw at all tell you all the time how amazing you are, but you, as the artist, have seen what amazing really is and you realize that it isn’t you.
Books are so ideal for lazy people I mean we can do all these amazing things and go to amazing places and experience all these things all while sitting on our ass.
Have you ever met someone
And theyre so fucking perfect in everyway.
And maybe they arent perfect to everybody, but to you theyre just absolutely amazing.
The way they laugh and smile and talk and think and look and just everything about them and everything they do just keeps amazing you.
the worst feeling about trying to draw is being a mediocre artist. You realize you’re not terrible and family and friends who have can’t draw at all tell you all the time how amazing you are, but you, as the artist, have seen what amazing really is and you realize that it isn’t you.
Also knowing you could improve and be better but youre too unmotivated to practice
The stories of women in my family who were forced into lives they didn’t want and didn’t utilize their passions breaks my heart. My grandma wanted to be a journalist and write about the injustices she saw inflicted on disabled ppl while she was volunteering at a state run institution as a teen. Her father decided that she was “too fat and stupid” for college and forced her to get married at 17 or else he’d make her homeless. As a kid she told me that she wished people believed that she had meaningful opinions on events around her. One of my great grandmothers wanted to be an artist but was pressured into marrying a man who beat her. She stayed up late each night when her children were in bed writing poetry and pasting it over elaborate collages she mad herself. We still have stacks of these notebooks she created but was never allowed to do anything with. My mother wanted to be an operatic singer and was considered a musical prodigy in her town because she taught herself three seperate instruments by 13. When she was 18 she met my then 30 year old father who emotionally manipulated her into giving up her dreams to start a family with him. As a kid I would hear her up at night playing the violin or doing vocal exercises until she became too depressed to practice anymore. Like idk y’all there’s a quiet type of violence in the way women’s talents are devalued and brushed aside in favor of bullying them into “traditional” roles that ultimately don’t fulfill what they wanted for their lives. We’ve lost so much art, music, writing, science, and happiness to misogyny.