@hamato_mikey
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New song!
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https://www.wattpad.com/1635271660?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=hamato_mikey
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New poem
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https://www.wattpad.com/1635062020?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=hamato_mikey
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New short story!
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https://www.wattpad.com/1633861122?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=hamato_mikey
They hung up on me again, okay fine, I will never call them.
Aw man, I will have to accept it, I guess.
Called the mental health hotline, emergency number, they told me all lines were busy and hung up on me.
No one cares, have to learn that lesson over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN.
Thanks, I guess.
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New art piece!
“Ailecek Harcadınız”
https://pin.it/qZGyLKRx7
Depriving a person of love has significant effects on their mental well being, especially if it Starts of young, at such tender ages.
There are parents, who love their offspring as babies, the older they get, with some examples starting in toddler hood, they resemble less and less their caretakers, becoming more of their own person.
Usually that is when the abuse starts to form, no one out there punches a three year old, it starts piece by piece, it escalates even further and further, so that physical violence is no longer unfathomable, but more so, a last resort and one day, it becomes a defense, until it morphs into regular punishment.
Emotionally negligent parents typically have no care if their offspring ventures out into the world, though a certain kind puts lots of control into that.
The authoritarian kind, they must control their child’s very being.
One might say, they make very sneaky people, not, if they make their kid dependant on love, which they constantly withhold from them.
Propagandising their offspring to believe the world is even worse, upside down, confusing, no morality, breeding the perfect, loyal child.
No matter how much the person might wish to leave, they are fundamentally broken, I cannot leave the house for too long without missing it, though I am so sick of it, I have really bad separation anxiety.
That was made on purpose, so that I would never leave them.
Sure, I notice it, I see the patterns, yet just because I am talking about it, does not mean I am planning on escaping, the physical violence has been phased out slowly, I see no reason to leave.
Would rather stay in my pretty cage.
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New poem
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https://www.wattpad.com/1631211188?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=hamato_mikey
When I was a kid, I always searched for Barbie dolls without any moulded underwear, I kept looking and looking and found none, which greatly saddened me.
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New art piece!
https://pin.it/6UbW5ykGX
“Destruction of a potential wife”
The blood effect was achieved through watercolour, I used a wide brush, that was quite old and used very little water to give a ragged effect.
The colours I used are called:
- Brilliant Red
- Crimson
- Deep black
I used several layers, for the splatter effect I mixed up the black and the crimson.
For an authentic feel.
No real blood was used on this piece.
This piece symbolises the agony inside of me when it comes to my one and true wish.
Of being and having a wife.
Nothing else matters to me in this world, at the end of the day, this is my only goal for my future, but because I am both lesbian and Muslim, there is…a conflict of interest.
To add fuel into my inner fire, the pain of the past SA weighs heavy on my heart, I cannot bring myself to love me in relation to others, on my own, all is well, but not, when others are involved.
No woman would ever want any of this.
I cannot accept this, it is misery.
Because I cannot fulfill my one goal, I have no reason to keep everything beautiful.
Even if one day I were to find love regardless, I will never forget my demons, my suffering, my struggles, I am immortalising my self hatred on myself, to always remember.
Destroying what was once beautiful, because no one wants it.
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Ah, I believe I found the issue, it was most likely flagged for gore, perhaps bots should not do the job of a human, because this is artistic censorship.
I will upload the piece in black and white instead.
The link does not seem to work, so you get the whole collection instead, it should be the most recent post:
https://pin.it/4H9J5hpGX
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New poem
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https://www.wattpad.com/1627663103?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=hamato_mikey
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New short story!
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https://www.wattpad.com/1624812273?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=hamato_mikey
Last year, when I was in that hospital, I cried for an entire day there.
Laying in my bed, seeing everyone still having connections, further exemplifying my loneliness.
Everyone had visitors.
I waited an entire day for my mother, ever so hopeful, she got there very late, dropped off my things as I requested and then left.
She was there for around 15 minutes.
I waited hours and she did not even care, of course she would not, she never did, perhaps the pain killers made me think it was possible, that was delusional of me to believe.
She only wailed for…him.
The person responsible for my situation.
How terrible he was feeling, how much help he needed, I do not matter.
To anyone.
I never did.
Every day, life finds new ways to break my heart.
Or I do.
Despite my dislike towards teens, I do try to avoid sitting next to them on the bus in case they want to sit with their friends, because I automatically assume everyone to be better off than I am, especially in the social department.
By the way, “artist” is an insult in Turkish, I deliberately chose this title because when read in English it makes you think it is a nice description, though it is hiding something ugly.
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New short story
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https://www.wattpad.com/1621812766?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=hamato_mikey
I find myself struggling with motivation, apologies for no new art for…I believe 3 weeks now?
Today I woke up at 15 o’clock, as I have no reason to be awake on days I have no work.
The monotony of my life is taking over my very being.
I have no reason to become better.
Just blocked/muted all of my followers that are not me (I have two old accounts I have not logged into forever) - did so on Pinterest as well, I do not deserve support.
A mind which eternally analyses every little detail about its life, watching its own suffering, doing everything to understand it.
Yet doing nothing against it, living in a forever research.
It is interesting to see just how deep I can fall into my issues, how many lows I can reach, by now, I thought I reached the end of the abyss.
There is no ground.
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New art piece!
“Desolation’s embrace”
https://pin.it/kRL9Tt5Z5
The title is a reference to a song by Maebi with the same name:
https://youtu.be/BrkOTDu7V0c?is=58ufsyTQ_CRapb6R
I saw this place in a dream, it started of with the left picture, I walked into a small storage area and on my left I found a huge ball pit, one that did not seem to end and was shrouded in darkness.
I really wanted to portray this adventure in one art work, because both pictures on their own do not quite accurately portray the absurdity of the situation.
But I did not know how.
In the next night, where I was just falling asleep, I had the grand idea of combining these two in one singular work, I really hope it works in this format, this is a first for me.
I have had to deal with this limitation before, in the past I just split it into separate art works, so that I would have more to draw or I would just scrap it in the visual style and instead write about it.
These are the types of places I see in my dreams.
I believe I have seen the huge ball pit somewhere in my childhood, well I do recall several, they must have left an impression on me.
In general indoor parks really do it for me artistically, their images scattered in my mind, always connected with solitude, because even as a kid my social skills were poor, I was always a little too strange, too niche.
Huge hit to my self worth, I have basically none.
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If 100 people hate seniors, I am one of them.
If 10 people hate seniors, I am one of them.
If 1 person hates seniors, that is me.
If 0 people hate seniors, then I must be dead, because otherwise such number is impossible.
I hope I never become one.
I just now realise how confusing the wording sounds, so in my dream, when I turned to my left, I found the ball pit, which in my art, I portrayed on my right.
Deliberate choice, because in English you read comics from left to right, I wanted to portray that movement accurately, though that makes speaking about it sound nonsensical haha