Uma Lembrança Sólida
Uma lembrança sólida
Minha mãe acidentalmente quebrou uma caneca que meu pai me deu. Eu chorei. E fiquei desesperado, triste. Não tinha super-bonde, então eu peguei minha washi tape favorita. Ela tinha estampa de animais do mar. Eu colei e percebi, uma caneca favorita remendada com uma washi tape favorita é uma linda combinação, juntadas por um destino trágico. Talvez esse seja o meu destino, remendar o quebrado, o lixo e fazer algo lindo. Não vai ter a mesma utilidade, mas vai estar lá, na minha mesa, uma lembrança sólida.
More Posts from Arytheweirdrat and Others
this whole post is so fucking funny lol
why didn't they just leave pompeii when the volcano erupted? were they stupid?
that a beautiful art, but the inspiration is sad, I hope you send they to hell :)
Finally finished this piece about the toxic beauty standards imposed by my parents while growing up. Painting all those eyes felt both meditating and drove me insane.
TW: child abuse
I included some of the comments my family has made about my appearance over the years, some of which are contradicting, just to show how impossible it was to please their toxic beauty standards. To them, I was always too skinny and too fat at 115lb. And being 5'6 was too short.
My mom told me to get plastic surgery for my monolid eyes, because only double lidded eyes are considered beautiful by Chinese standards. She pointed to her friend's daughter, who did get plastic surgery for her entire face, and said how much better the girl looked, how I should be like that.
My dad commented on my flat chest, asking how come my mom has boobs while I don't. My stepmom pointed out the frown lines around my lips, saying I don't smile enough. My stepmom always bullied me to the point of crying (by calling my mom a whore and such), so she knows exactly why I don't smile enough. My stepdad said my personality is too horrible to get a normal job, so I would have to prostitute myself, but that I'm too ugly to get clients so I would starve. When I told my mom what he said, she told me to stop lying.
After a lot of therapy for my CPTSD, I can look back and realize that they were the ugly ones, in all sense of the word. But for so long I had such little self-esteem, I would avoid photos. At my first artist alley over a decade ago, fans of my art wanted photos with me but I was too ashamed of myself to accept. I've improved a lot and no longer fear being photographed. I still struggle with other aspects of my childhood abuse (a story for a different day), but with each passing year I feel like I'm regaining bits of myself.
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A peek of the painting process, the full hours long videos will be DMed on my Patreon on Sep 5th
Sooo, I may or may not had an alucination?
.•*¨*•.¸¸♪Guess who almost drinked bleach♪¸¸.•*¨*•.
What if we are cells in a body, and the sick cells are the bad people? That's the reason we want to kill them. We are the white cells. We are only protecting our body. When we are "atacked" by them, they are trying to kill us, and turn us like they. Don´t become a sick cell, buddy. Don´t join the other team.
I'm in entry #16!! I'm loving this so much (but I only see a little every few days, im in exams week). I am so curious to see what is happening/happened with Alex!!
Started waching Marble Hornets, holy fuck, this is amazingggg
Are you going to stand there like a feral little men?Hi! I'm Ary and I use any pronouns, I'm from Brazil (im not neymar's cousin)and I speak english and portuguese!Uhh, idk what should I put here?
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