Music Stories And Art Stories

you were too young

when she clawed her way in

taking over everywhere

whispering everything you think

entering you into the purple tornado of your thoughts

you pull the blanket over your head

trying to block out the noise

all the ideas of pain and blood

slowly following you under your shield

making it harder to breathe

restricting you

you were too young

when she stole your spark

leaving you lifeless and sleeping all day

leaving you with just raw emotions

you were too young

for all the shit she made you think

all the shit she made you do

all the self inflicted pain

you were too young

when she clawed her way in

you were too young

you were only 11

This morning, I had a weird feeling I can't really explain.

It started as how any usual day starts for me: excruciating mental pain. For the first half of the day, I thought I was done for, just like always. I remembered how much I was harassed and how ugly it got, and I thought I was gonna get found by the person who ultimately ruined my entire life in just one day. I'm pretty sure I said parts of what I can actually say in previous posts, but long story short I was completely done with my goals. I gave up, giving AI little of what was left of my creativity just to see if I can get that old spark back (which is a mistake, but I had zero resource and I was in a block).

Today, however, I felt something different after the second half of the day. I was scrolling through channels trying to crunch down another boring samey Sunday, until I landed on a movie about experiencing the joys of life. It ignited something on me; I looked around my living room, no shortage of something I'm good at: collecting Nintendo controllers specifically. In my living room alone, I found a cyan Wii Remote, a golden Classic Controller Pro, and my NSO 2 GameCube Controller. I looked at my trampoline and at all the free space in my house, and I thought about how much I love to run and exercise freely. I thought about my tastes in food and realized how unique they were--I might hate white condiments, but I love well-prepared anchovy pizza and pineapple pizza, I love drinking frozen matcha and eating loaded potato soup. I sat for a little longer and all of a sudden, I saw a vision of a character sitting beside me like if they were alive. Suddenly, I felt like I really wanted to go to the mall and let myself loose--find out what kinds of stores it had, how many stories, what where the anchors, what was at the food court, playing at a Dave & Busters, just overall letting myself loose and seeing the very appealing design that was the inside of a mall. This interest wasn't just an obligation to keep me stimulated; it was an actual call to return to my old self. I saw the similarities between my favorite (drawing) artists, and I stopped feeling anxious, even if some of these still make me go WTF. I acknowledged that despite their damning similarities, they each bring something new to the table and keeping me to innovate and do the same: follow the same footsteps but bring something new to the table. I even felt like coming up with a plan to start over with my art, presumably just in time for next year's ArtFight.

There's one problem though. I've had similar breakthroughs before, and I don't know how to keep the newfound spark. I'm enrolled in some coding classes that really frustrated me and completely broke on me and I'm pretty sure I failed the assignment because it's past the deadline and the whole program was straight up broken in the professor's end. It got me super mad, and it even blocked my creativity. My spark can easily just disappear.

So I have a question: what would you guys do to keep the spark alive? I do indeed have a plan to redefine what my creativity truly means, but what if more frustrating coding assignments ruin everything for this spark and leave me right where I got started once again?

This might sound a bit silly but really, I kinda need help combating with these weird thoughts

I’ve vented here before, and I really appreciated the support and perspectives others shared. But there’s something I brushed off before, as that was not the central topic of the previous vent and it wasn’t a big enough problem, until it started eating me today, and it’s become hard to ignore

I want to draw more than anything in the whole world. I’ve been drawing for 8 years, starting from the simple concept of a cube to a whole world of anthro animals/inanimates, silly creatures, all fantasy related, even evolving my old characters. From wolf-folk to living game controllers, it’s like a modern fantasy world, just like drawing was to me! Unfortunately, I couldn’t find myself drawing after having a lot of hardships, but after all the support I received recently, and even regaining access to Discord, I might give it a shot again, hell I would LOVE to try it again, but there’s something deeper blocking me: my envy…

Ever since 2020, I’ve started looking up to niche artists online—ones who draw stylized, humanoid non-human characters (anthros and such) with this barely-explainable aesthetic (Five-fingers, making it premium. They’re like exactly human characters but with the most notable parts of the item/animal, but there’s no valid name for it I could find, and it’s not furry and I ain’t one.) By the start of 2023, however, I noticed something weird about each new artist I became obsessed with, almost like a pattern but on different communities and social medias, and it’s not exactly what I asked each artist I admired to have and stuff that almost seemed to either taunt me or I just don’t know that it is an aesthetic that exists. Poetic blood in art, cigar(ettes), dangling shoes, the same obsessions in the same indie games, same online communities, same aesthetic. They even behaved in two ways: Overly cutesy and giddy, or kinda assholish and deadpan. The latest artist I started admiring checked all the boxes in a week, then today they revealed that not only are they obsessed with the same game, but also with the character that one of my favorite “niche” online artists designed. It almost feels like it’s not a coincidence coincidence and not inspiration or a neat fact. It suffocates me.

I tried emulating these kinds of artists for a long time, still having a subpar art style that tries to emulate the magic of those artists, but it always fails in several aspects, including the pose I want to strike. I am not motivated to draw, despite how much my heart tells me to. I’ve tried filling every similarity box while also bringing slight nerdism on technology and being nice to others. Why am I not having a proper consistent niche then? I’ve been forced to restart TWICE, not getting any better and always ending in failure. I want to be friends with those artists too, but I can’t get into their indie interests, let alone even talk to them normally just to be friends. I have met a few, and the closest to a friend would be one artist I commissioned twice. They offered me a Toyhouse code, but I just don’t know how to go about being publicly online. What if I screw up as bad as previously? It makes me so anxious. I want to have my own niche fandom, and I want to be nice to others, but others treat me like shit and attempt to drive me off the internet by spreading rumors about me and even grooming me.

Now, I have questions for you guys.

1. What would you do if you were me?

2. Have you guys ever felt the same weird connection between people you admire? If so:

a. Do you think it’s weird?

b. Do you feel more jealousy than admiration?

Is it me or are some song lyrics more relatable than others. One of the song lyrics I relate to is

"It was never to end like this"

"so go ahead and tell me what I did to deserve this " From Hurtlees by Dean Lewis. 🎵

This can be related to your mental health struggles or friendship that has ended.

so, idk if i should really talk abt ai art here bc i fear i might get witch hunted or anything. either way, i wanted to talk abt my so-called list vents. this started…idk when, probably many months ago, and i would write down the same phrase over and over again in an unordered list, talking abt things that i’m very tired abt. this is the latest list that i’ve written, titled after a song by tripleS. i hope that i could open up abt my feelings abt ai as a synthographer here, bc i’m sometimes tired of bottling them all up.

* i’m tired of people saying that it’s over or that we’re cooked

* i’m tired of people portraying us as villains

* i’m tired of artists wanting us to pick up a pencil or just about anything that draws

* i’m tired of artists poking fun at us when we can’t generate ai images offline*

* i’m tired of the backlash from an ai-generated comic about two fans and an aircon

* i’m tired of this one creator saying about the very first anime to be 95% generated with ai and it looks like garbage

* i’m tired of artists urging to find alternatives to ai art or death threats will come

* i’m tired of people saying that ai is [insert negative verb ending with “-ing”] the industry

* i’m tired of ai-generated videos abt the apocalypse or anything weird in general

* i’m tired of this so-called “prompt theory”

* i’m tired of not being able to try Veo 3 because it’s under a seriously exorbitant subscription**

* i’m tired of chatgpt being a yes man, as everyone says

* i’m tired of chatgpt poisoning my brain

* i’m tired of being the only person who knows about ai and messes around with it***

* i’m tired of animating a stick figure doing a baseball throw for an assignment

* i’m tired of seeking validation with a chatbot

* i’m tired of losing myself in this ai world

* i’m tired of being alive in this ai world

* i’m tired of these invisible bruises

* i’m tired of all this noise

* i’m tired of feeling like i’ve fallen

* i’m tired of going back to square one after everything works out

* i’m tired of saying “finals week or my final week”

* i’m tired of wanting to drown myself

* i’m tired of making myself write this every month, bc as ai improves, hate grows too

*good thing i have data duh!

**even if i can get it for free with an edu account, then what’s the point if i’ll never use it again if ever?

***i seriously don’t know anybody who does ai art as a hobby in my circle of friends

I'm a sophomore in high school, and I'd consider myself an artist. I have endless ideas for all sorts of things to draw, paint, sculpt, sew, build, you name it. I admit I'm better at drawing and all that than a good amount of people since I've always been interested in art and have been improving my skills and learning for my whole life. Although, I can't feel good about any of my work. I always criticize myself and compare myself to other people and I can't stop. It started around 7th or 8th grade, when things were first starting to get rough for me as I grew older and realized things my parents hid from me and I never thought about before. My ideas got more complex and I started pressuring myself to do better. People around me are good at drawing, and I hate it. I can't stand people being better than me at the only thing I'm relatively good at. I have anger issues and I get mad quickly and say and do things to my friends out of spite for them being better than me and I later regret it deeply because I love them and I'd never want to hurt them. It drives me absolutely crazy. No matter how much people say they love my drawings or how talented I am I just can't accept it. I even tried prioritizing my art over school work, last and this year I draw in my notebooks almost every class period for the entire duration. My grades are bad and I have to leave my current school because of it, which is driving the stake deeper. Whenever I have an idea and try to act on it through my art, it always turns out horrible and far from what I wanted. I can't do anything right. People say I'm talented but it's not talent, I wasn't born good at anything, I've just been drawing for so long I happen to be better than some others. Currently I feel as if I haven't improved in years. I try all the tactics and tips I see online but nothing sticks, nothing helps. I wanna quit but I can't. Drawing is my thing, I'm supposed to be good at it. I'm horrible at the one thing I'm supposed to be good at and it's tearing me apart. I'm not smart, I don't play sports or instruments, this is all I have. I can't improve and I can't do anything. I've stepped away and came back to projects but I end up hating them all over again. Everything has to be perfect, everything has to be the best, but it's not.

Heyah👋🏻😄!!

This dang app doesn't have a movie or TV option... So I clicked on the next best thing outta the options given✨👀.

Maybe I could've picked a medical option, but then the vibes of Apothecary Diaries wouldn't have come across... At least to me it wouldn't🫠.

Anyway... I want more seasons to come out but why do animes in general, usually stop at the 2nd season, or rarely stop at the 3😭!! There are so many anime's that I love, but they're just taking breaks for 10+ years, or discontinuing them🥲!!

I wanna see MaoMao enjoy her poisonous pufferfish, and all her shenanigans that she gets up to😂!!

Is Jinshi gonna spill the beans ever😱!! And no... I don't mean those beans😏🫘!! But seriously🥴!!

And why the fork did MaoMao call Jinish's male appendage a frog🐸!?!? That area looks nothing like a frog🤣!!!

And will we see if Jinshi and his mother gets together as mother and son🥹🙏🏻✨!? Is the book series completed and where to get the series if it is completed📚😍!?!?

Also does anyone wonder why Jinshi likes MaoMao's glare😠🐛!?

MaoMao with cat ears is so cute😻!! MaoMao in Mandarin is "Cat"... Right? I'm not sure🙃. But I think that's what it means? Cause when I was at a Hearts Alive Cat Café, an East Asian couple came in and kept calling all the cats "MaoMao"... So, I sorta figured that MaoMao meant cat😺. It's also funny cause MaoMao(the anime character) doesn't really find cats appealing😹!! Yet she embodies a cat quite well🤣!! My favorite character outta everyone is Lady Giokio(I'm aware I miss-spelled her name... Sorry🙇🏻‍♀️). The pink haired concubine🩷!!

I don’t know why but these last few days have felt like weeks.

Everything feels longer slower even.

Like it’s moving by inch by inch.

Like a movie that you’re watching while you trying to keep your eyes open.

You’re trying so hard but when you blink for a long moment it’s still on the same scene.

Everything is just feels pointless.

Like there’s no important end result to any of my actions.

I have the energy to do stuff.

It’s rarely me ever being tired it’s more the lack of motivation.

My body just won’t let me do things I used to.

I’ve learned that energy is like a kids birthday money

you know you have it but yet you will never be able to spend it before it’s gone.

It’s like I’m physically being held back by my brain.

I leave a room and the smile that was there just turns blank.

Everything turns blank so what was the point of all that?

Why is everything watered down?

Things that used to make me giggle hard enough to the point where my stomach would hurt

now makes me give a brief smile if I’m lucky.

I have to force myself to laugh.

I’m not funny anymore.

It’s like my sense of humor expired and now it’s copying the world around it.

I want to be see as funny and outgoing but it never works.

Giving up on that I wanted to be seen as mature and put together

but it just comes off as just stupid dreams of a child

and gets shut down within the first five seconds.

I started to express myself in the page. In the sketchbook.

It looked like a cringe worthy sight but it was how I felt.

So I drew images I saw online and called my own art

because technically that’s what it was.

But deep down it was more. It was how I felt.

A bunch of scribbles that to the normal person would be seen as an image and not a cry for help deep down.

Multiple people saw these dark gore filled pages and didn’t bat an eye.

They complimented it said how good it looked how it was my style not my feelings.

I wish people would see more.

I wish they could see how much I feel trapped.

I wish I could be freed from my brain.

I’ve recently found myself not enjoying most of my old hobbies.

Playing video games feels like chores when I’m alone.

Drawing outside of school hasn’t been done in ages.

I just sit. I sit.

I sit and feel like I want to cry yet my eyes won’t give me the relief of crying.

My chest stays compressed. Having that hurt sad feeling.

I remember joining theatre and thinking acting was easy.

Maybe that’s cause I had always been doing it. I was always able to spot it.

But now I’m seeing it and feeling it in my environment and it’s messing with my head. Just like everything else I’ve done has.

Seventh grade I remember thinking I wasn’t good enough

and hurting myself while I was watching the older better kids.

I had done basketball just as long as the other kids.

Why can’t I do it the same?

Last year it was speech.

I joined expecting greatness but I got last after last after last.

I got our results only to find out I had majority of the problems.

I felt like I was holding you back.

Not allowing you to reach you full potential. Not allowing you to fly.

I remember telling myself I wasn’t good enough.

But this time I didn’t have the experience.

Why was I so hard on myself?

All this happened year after year.

I haven’t yet had my annual burnt out self hatred.

I know it’s coming I can feel it.

I know that my mental health is depleted but yet I know the worst is yet to come.

And I know I’m going to sit there in silence through the whole thing like I’ve done for years.

There used to be so much but then it just went numb

I see things that should hurt me and I know they do

But I just get nothing

So on Saturday I went to Solo and Ensemble (music event) (I GOT SUPERIOR) and when I went into the high school's gym to practice my friend W was in there. We started goofing off, and he connected his phone to my speaker I was using for my piano accompaniment and started playing a song called "Brain Implosion Energy".

I added the shortened version to my playlist and have been listening to it on loop.

BIG mistake.

It's stuck in my head.

Just imagine, talking to your friends, but your head is playing over and over: "brain implosion energy ten thousand grams of pure caffeine cuz you cant overthink if your heart stops brain implosion energy ten thousand grams of pure caffeine just drink and drink and drink until you drop I love my brain implosion juice it makes my brain go RRRRRRR" For all eternity. Just playing over and over in that high-pitched bubbly vocaloid voice.

IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE.

SO

I'm an enthusiastic musical arranger on flat.io (go find me, my display is orgogagogi and my @ is @hans_husband) and I arrange mostly for piano.

I've arranged so far: I Hate To Admit by Bang Chan (Kpop is awesome what you yappin), Vibrant Eyes by CG5, and have posted but not finished an arrangement of The Beginning by ONE OK ROCK.

Thing is, I'm currently working on, like two different arrangements at the same time: previously mentioned The Beginning and Call Your Mom by Noah Kahan and plan to start Everywhere, Everything by Noah Kahan soon, and maybe even Deep End by SKZ.

Thinking about the next note has been part of what keeps me up at night, so much so that I've started having to put makeup under my eyes so that it won't be obvious that I'm losing sleep over this so my friends don't worry.

am I pushing myself too much?

I've been dying to write a singer-songwriter style song for a LONG time now

so here we go

I only have a chorus

here it is:

you say, you say,

"Everything's gonna be

okay okay"

Like you've done this before

But you ain't done this before

So don't say, don't say,

Cause nothing will be

okay, okay

Cause you ain't done this before

And I ain't done this before

And I also want there to be a part that goes:

And now I long to see

What do you still see in me?

But I'm struggling with the verses

so If I get something good I'll post it here bc my IRL friends are tried of hearing me yap abt my songs-

All my life, been waging war in my mind, been waiting for something right, been waiting for sun to shine. Apathy, the friend of my enemy. Another blind visionary. I never cry, but I bleed. Tell me, what does it feel like to feel anything again? I know that it takes time, but this never ends, and I'm starting to realize: The glass half empty's been just a way to be baptized in the taste of your own medicine. Don't tell mom. Tell her it's just a song. Tell her I'm holding on. I'm sorry I missed her call. What this wasn't what I wanted? Can I return the life I've started? Just 14 years, and I'm exhausted. Guess we're calling this normal. Tell me, what does it feel like to feel anything again? I know that it takes time, but this never ends, and I'm starting to realize: The glass half empty's been just a way to be baptized in the taste of your own medicine. And I call it a cry for help. You call it song lyrics. But as long as I force a smile, I guess we'll just ignore it. I just hope that someday, someone will love me.

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.

(song: Safe & Sound by Taylore Swift, it's the only song i like by her, go listen to it if you need comfort :3)

“Goodnight, mom,” I whispered into the darkness.

“Goodnight, my dear,” I saw the door open, the light from the hall momentarily pouring in, then the door closed, locking me in darkness once again.

Despite all that had happened that day, I was asleep before long.

----------

I opened my eyes, but I wasn’t in my bedroom. Rather, I was somewhere... else. Somewhere very else indeed.

I shut my eyes. I waited for my mind to calm down. Then I opened them again. I took a look at my surroundings.

I was in a place. Where this place was, I had no idea. But the whole place seemed strangely familiar. The floor was a checkerboard of white, red, yellow, blue, and green tiles. There were large white pillars every few feet. And the feeling the place gave me... a shiver ran down my spine. It felt temporary, like I wasn’t supposed to be there too long.

Well. If I was supposed to get going, I supposed I would.

I started wandering aimlessly, trying to find a door, but the space seemed to never end despite the fact that I could see the walls on either side of me and behind me. I walked and walked for maybe ten minutes.

I started to feel fatigued. Suddenly, something felt... off. Something was shifting in the universe. Something told me I’d been there too long.

I blinked. Before me was a door that definitely had not been there before. Hesitantly, I turned the knob. I pushed the door open.

Before me was a hallway. It looked like one you'd find in a hotel, except I couldn’t see an end. The corridor was poorly lit, and the walls lined with doors. None of them had handles.

This place gave me a weird feeling, just like the first had: I’ve been here before, this is temporary, don’t stay for too long. But it also felt kind of... in-between, like it was there and nowhere at the same time. Like a threshold between... realities.

I felt the sudden urge to get to the end of the hallway. Part of me wanted to act on that. But another part of me said to turn around and go back to the other place. And yet another part was telling me to...

Wake up?

I shook my head and started walking.

And I walked.

And walked.

A n d w a l k e d.

Andwalkedandwalkedandwalkedandwalkedand-

I reached the end.

Finally.

There was a door not unlike the one I’d come through. I reached out to turn the knob, to get out, finally. There was a sense of finality to this door, like it was the last.

But right before I put my hand on the knob, I stopped.

Froze.

Listened.

To a little voice in my head.

My curiosity.

What’s behind the other doors? I wondered.

I backtracked a few. One of the doors felt right. I stopped. I faced it.

Like all the other doors, it had no handle. But it was also different from the others. It seemed... familiar. And I knew I’d seen it before.

The door to my old house.

Hesitantly, I raised a hand. I knocked on the door. Exactly the same rhythm as I always used to knock on doors. Tap, tap, tap-tap, tap.

The door swung open.

I stepped inside.

I stumbled.

The room was familiar. It was my room, the one I’d had as a kid, before my family fell apart. I’d had that room until I was five, then my mom moved out, and then my dad moved out, and the house was sold.

I walked through the room, my room, in awe. I felt safe. Everything was as I remembered. It was a small room. Model airplanes hung from the ceiling. The walls were covered in glow-in-the-dark stars. The comforter was Cars 2 themed. The only light came from my favorite car lamp. It lit the small space surprisingly well. The desk across from the bed, the one I’d called my “work desk” was the same.

Everything was exactly the same.

Except...

On the desk sat a colouring book and a box of crayons, fresh and new. I flipped through the colouring book. Cars. My favourite thing when I was five. I sat at the desk and started colouring. After a while I was hungry. I looked around.

On the bed was a plate that held a grilled cheese sandwich with a side of ranch dressing for dipping. Next to it was a juice box. Grape juice. My favourite meal as a kid.

That hadn’t been there before.

I stood up and picked up the plate and juice box. I carried it back to the desk and continued colouring as I ate.

Vaguely I wondered whether I should probably find my way home.

But I was home.

Safe away from the pains of the real world, I could be five years old forever in my five-year-old bedroom.

And I was content with that.

----------

In the real world, the world outside the boy’s mind, everything went on as normal. The boy went to school, came home, ate his food, switched between parents, all as he normally would.

But now, he did so with a dreamy, faraway look on his face. Like he wasn’t really there.

Nobody at school noticed. To them, the boy was being his usual weird self. They avoided him, as they’d always done.

Then a new kid came. He was nervous. He didn’t know anybody.

The new kid saw the boy. Thought he might be nice. Decided to introduce himself.

“H-hey,” the new kid said. “My name’s Bowie. I’m new. What’s your name?”

The boy looked at the new kid with the same, dreamy, faraway look.

“My name is _ _ _ _ _.”

I'm in my 20's... I'm living my life and I have sorta been in a rut. But then I thought... Why not try something I used to live again🥹🙏🏻✨!! I used to play the djembe drum from 4th grade to my 2nd year of college. But I took a break due to my mother's cancer journey. Now I've moved and I have the means, time, and energy... I wanna get back into one of my former passions🎶. I am a little worried that I'm rusty... Since it's been a fair amount of time since I've banged a drum🫠. It's been a year and a half to be exact😑. I'll be going to the Las Vegas Drum show and I'm so pumped to get my very own djembe drum... Since I used to only use the ones school and college provided🪘😅.

Any... It's never too late to start an old passion... Nor is it too late to start a new passion🥰!!

Wish me luck🍀!!

Also, I just wanted to ask but, I hope that no one thinks I'm culturally appropriating the African culture by playing this amazing instrument🪘. I'm East Asian, and I grew up with all sorts of different music from Latin music, Hispanic music, East Asian traditional music from China, Korea, Japan, etc, European classical, Native American music, and more. I just love the art of it all, and I have the highest respect for all cultures who've put in the time, effort, and passion into their art!! Just wanted to put the disclaimer out there for those who sometimes get triggered by cultural appropriation☺️🙏🏻✨.