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But if somehow I had a second chance at that moment…

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Production art for Lilo & Stitch by David Wang, Geraldine Kovats, William Silvers, and Peter Moehrle ✗

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Did i tell you guys i hate coloring? No? (if you squint it looks better trustt)

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lil warm up :3

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More sketches because i love them and miss em:c

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The Baltic sea by Arvydas Ciuksys

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Untitled painting by ABeardedArtist

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So tired of the inbetween.

Most days im sad and tired of the nothingness. i have nothing to cling into. Theres no comfort for me anymore. Nobody talks about this phase of changing for the better. because you have no new habits you can practice. No comfort shows no comfort yous no comfort at all. Nor do the old toxic habits work, because thats no longer you. they no longer feel right. but nothing new is there to replace them either. I have nothing that i can say is mine. So i feel empty and hollow half the time, drifting in this inbetween waiting for something to feel right again. But it doesnt. I just get more frustrated because nothing works. I can watch old youtubers and eat my old favourite foods, but i did a social detox so social media and youtube isnt me anymore, and im on a healthy diet so ice creams just doesnt hit anymore. Why doesnt anything work. I can watch twilight like its me but i dont know who i am anymore. Im unfamiliar in my body. And i just get sadder by the minute. I cant comfort myself i have no idea what to do. I know i cant distract myself thats the bad habit im trying to drop! But even if i try i cant. Because nothing is me.

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What Miraculous season 6 has felt like. It’s weirdly nostalgic.

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Thinking about them

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I lowkey hope miraculous does indeed have 10 seasons because then i have a chance at working on it in the future. (im applying for animation uni atm) like just imagine for a sec that 13 year old me who rigulously checked if there are any updates every single day, at a later point in her life works on the same shows season 10 finale. thats literally my dream come true

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love people who are random<3

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Purr? Maybe. Danger? Absolutely. 🐾

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sketches i made in bologna a month ago~

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I need to word vomit this somewhere because oh my god the love i have for art is unmatched.

Sometimes i get this cloud over my head and the little critic in my head tells me im not a good artist or that im just simply not good enough, that by this age and after so much practice i should be able to do this and that. in theory and in my mind i can do and see all these things and it’s been making me so angry when i just cant seem to put them onto a paper. It sucks aways from my motivation and it feels heavy and scary now, because what if it turns out wrong? Whats the point?

But in moments like this i realise holy shit it doesnt fucking matter.

I never cared?? At some point in my life i was 3 years old holding the crayons in the wrong hand in the wrong way and i colored the whole wall black in our old apartment and thought it was a masterpiece.

When i was in kindergarten and i first found out about paper maches and cardboards you can cut and glue on paper, i didnt care if people would like it. I didnt care the way i cut the paper was horrendous (it was and it always will be, scissors just arent made for left handed people). I didnt care when what i made resembled absolutely nothing. I didnt even want it to make sense, i just desperately wanted to make something with my own two little hands.

I didnt care when my brothers told me the lego wasnt for girls, i made what i wanted with what i had anyway. I used all the trains and the colorful blocks and the boxes, every toy that existed and i made it mine. I stole clothes from my mom and put them on the wrong way, said it was a fashion show. Knotted together scarfs and headbands, made dresses from scratch. I drew faces in the sand with sticks. I made art with marbles, with broken necklaces, with shoes anything i had i made art with it.

When i made friends in school i made up stories and games for hours for everyone, my classmates waited turns to play with me, for my ridiculously full of drama plays and theatrics. I kept making up new stuff everyday so i could include more people because they wanted to be apart of it, and i enjoyed every bit of it. I made drawings and gifts for every single classmate on their birthday, i made valentine gifts and trinkets for namedays.

I didnt care when i wrote songs that didnt rhyme and sang them at home, on the way home walking and on the swings on the playground or at school for teachers even if everyone around me told me my voice was terrible. I wrote a song as a birthday gift, i still have the lyrics in my diary and the melody in my head.

When i first learned that people posted their stories on the internet i began fantasizing about making my own, every night id go to sleep dreaming up a new one. At some point i realized, i could indeed make my own so i grabbed the first app i could (videostar and gosh it was so terrible) and made a whole youtube channel to post my silly fanfiction with stolen pictures with copyrighted songs, with terrible grammar ( i was 12 and english was my second language). My phone had 15 gb of space and with all the apps and the 500(!!) pictures of mlb characters and backrounds i hoarded a single video took up my whole storage, and in order to make a single one my phone had to recharge three times because it kept overheating and dying. I sat in the corner of my room next to the charger for hours to make them. Didnt care if my phone died before i saved it (i cried a little and then got back to it) or the views or if anyone cared if it was good i just wanted to make it. Its funny how if i try writing something now id start stressing out about the character arcs and the pacing and the flow and- little 10 year old me had a dream and a Samsung and went for it.

Then i learned about writing, so i wrote more on wattpad then i saw animes and made fanart, showed it at school and they hung it up (god poor art teacher didnt know i was drawing e.n.d Natsu for our villian project) then i learned about animation and i made animation memes on my broken Samsung Core Prime. I showed it to all my classmates and got made fun of but i couldnt care less because it was so cool. (Crush song is unbeatable)

I used to stay up until 4 am to draw because i forgot what it felt like to be alive, because drawing kept me alive. It sucked me in and i didnt care about deadlines or expectations or if people would see it, i never actually posted them, i just hoarded them like little treasures of mine.

I painted my closet and drew on my walls, scartched with pen at my hands in school, the teachers used to tell me off thats its unhealthy and i couldnt care less because it was just so darn cool to have skeleton hands. I engraved my essence into the desks at school, the moment a pencil touched my hand i just kept drawing, everywhere. I never understood when people would awe at my notebooks - why do you have so much drawings on the margins, who are they? - i didnt know it was that big of a deal. I was just having so much fun.

I dont know when did i forget it was always about making things. I only feel sorry for the wasted time, and the wasted energy on my unfounded fears. I never cared about anybodys opinion anyway, so why did i start caring whether it was good enough or not?

I look at these things now, the pictures from my childhood, at my old songs and poems and the youtube videos and the haikyuu fanfiction on wattpad, the drawings stuck on my wall they haunt me. They look into my soul and say “you made this with your bare hands, this is who you are, this is who you’ll always be, this is what you were made for”. I feel like i should be embarassed of them, and yet i can only grin and feel so much affection feel so tender, to think at some point i had such pure hearted intentions, such love for something that gained me nothing in the traditional sense. I just made shit. And made many more. Because it was fun and it made me feel whole.

I want to make art at the ass crack of dawn because i watched my mlb fanfiction i made at 12, with every single overused trope you can think of, because it was only about indulging myself, and making it for myself. Because i wanted to. Not because i felt like i had to, or that i felt like it was the correct thing to do, or that it would look good that way, or people would like it more, understand it more. (you want to belong, you want people to like you and accept you, you grew up and that’s why it’s not the same anymore) but i want it to be.

I want it to be for myself. The art. It was always about me. Creating. For shits and giggles and whatnot.

I was a very happy kid. Extremely so. My mom once asked me why and i said “I do what makes me happy and if something doesn’t make me happy, I don’t do it.”

I wonder why i forgot about it. I just want to be happy. I just want to make art. I just want to make.

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Please write your story. Draw the artwork. Finish the animation. Continue on whatever project you're working on. It doesn't matter if you're not good at it, or you have doubts, or you're afraid of mistakes. Your creation has a right to exist, and it will be important to others.

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thinking…..