Hey guys, if it’s not obvious already (how many months has it been since I posted here?) but I’ve created a new art blog.
This one was starting to get a bit morose and I wanted to create one that was primarily original content and my own art.
I’d really appreciate it if you popped over and gave it a look and follow if you like what you see.
I hate watching movies with them because they talk incessantly. Tonight I decided I should write down some of what they said. Here it is.
"He’s dead Will, he’s definitely dead."
"…Oh no he’s not."
"Well, that’s strange isn’t it…"
"The garage door is opening again. "
"What happened there!?"
"The car started!"
"It’s not going to gas her is it?"
"Why would they leave their 15-year-old alone in the house anyway?"
"She’s 17 isn’t she?
"I thought they said 15…"
"It sounded all breaky."
"That’s what happened to Robbie’s mother I think….something similiar."
"What’s this kids name??"
"Ooh! She’s strong!…Oh my watch needs fixing again."
"Well, he’s not really a boyfriend is he, he’s a boy who’s a friend."
"Well what’s the definition of boyfriend then?"
"Shhh! His phone! He must be in the wardrobe then!"
"Come out, come out, wherever you are!"
"Oh, that’s not really the best place for her, is it?"
"She was drawn there, they’re waiting for her."
"Where are they? Up on the ceiling?"
"See her face!"
"Well, well, well…"
Day 6 at this new mental health clinic. My room mate (the room mate I shouldn’t even have because I booked a private room) is a recovering heroine addict going through severe withdrawals who keeps me up every night from 1am without fail.
This place is a bit balls and all my friends have given up on me and moved on.
So basically life is fucking AWESOME.
Clinic three rejects me. Thanks again universe. Seriously though, when do I get a break?