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About Traditional Art / Student Eesak24/Male/United States Recent Activity
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Artist | Student | Traditional Art
United States
I've lived in Chicago all my life, and have been obsessed with anime almost just as long
  • Listening to: Crystal castles
  • Reading: The words I'm typing
  • Watching: Me type
  • Playing: With myself
  • Eating: Baby faces
  • Drinking: Sierra mist (fuck yea!!!!!!)
When I was born my father wasn't there. He wouldn't be there for the next twenty years either. A year after I was born, my mother left. She abandoned me. Left me with my grandparents. I lived with them for ten years. I was young. Still a child. But dammit I always wanted my parents in my life. My mom decided maybe she was ready to be a real parent. I jumped on the opportunity to live with her. Five years passed. I left. I was fifteen. Stupid, arrogant. I blamed her boyfriend. Said he was an asshole. And he could be, but I was the real asshole. Six months later my girlfriend's pregnant. I'm numb. Life's passing me by in a quick blur. I'm doing drugs during class. I'm drinking by myself every night. I'm stealing money from my grandparents. A year passes and he's born. An angel. But I'm still inadequate. The blur thickens. Another year passes me by. I'm still stealing money. I'm not getting high in class anymore, they kicked me out of school for a 10% attendance. I'm seventeen and spiraling. I'm disappearing for days even weeks at a time. I'm trying to forget. Trying to forget the lives I've destroyed, trying to forget the damage I've caused. I almost overdose on a bus in lake-view on Chicago's north side. I come to in an ambulance. I'm shaking, stuttering. I've fucked up real bad. They say they don't know what's caused my ailment, the doctors. They say that maybe someone slipped me something. They don't know that I'm suicidal. They don't know that I did it on purpose. Two weeks pass, and I almost overdose again. This time it's worse. This time no one visits me in the hospital. In put on suicide watch and sent to river edge psychiatric hospital. Another two weeks, and I have a new attitude. I'm here for a reason. Everyone has their purpose, and I'm on the path to finding mine. I'm a good father. I don't leave my son like I was left. I show him love and affection. I'm still inadequate. Still a loser. But at least my son loves me. Two years pass no more drugs. No more alcohol. I replaced those with video games. I see my son and his mother and plan on spending the day with them tomorrow. I go see my friends. We decide we should get some money the only way we know how. We spend the night breaking into people cars and taking anything they have of value. By the end of the night we have easily 200 bucks in electronics and another 100 in loose change. We head home. At 4:25 am, the local detectives pull us over. We match the description of two men seen breaking into someone's car. We were five minutes from home. Im 19. Four months pass. I'm sitting in jail. Stating at the same four walls. Sleeping in the same hard bed. With the same paper thin mattress. The judge gives me a year probation. I just turned twenty two weeks ago. My life starts. I start talking to my mom again for the first time in five years. I put serious effort into my artwork. I stay away from everything. Drugs my old friends. Everything. I want things to be different. I have a dream and I'm pursuing it. My artwork gets local acclaim, but nothing even close to where I want it to be. I'm fine for six months. I wake up and look at the clock on this particular day. I was supposed to go to probation court. I didn't. I was scared. I had already violated my probation. It was only a matter of time till they came and got me. Two weeks pass and I'm doing things different. My mom is talking about hiring me at her company. We set up a meeting. I'm taken to jail two hours before the meeting. Three weeks pass. I'm losing it. I'm dreaming of fame. I want to get out so I can show people my vision. My story has taken on a complete life of its own. I'm amazing the other inmates with my tales of "Demon hunter Mina." My drawings are selling like mad. A dollar for a card to your girl back home. Two for a character drawing. 50 cents a letter on tattoos. I'm eating good. The judge says I can go home and I almost die with excitement. A week passes and nothing. My short stories are getting absolutely no feedback whatsoever and I've lost all ability to draw. I start work with my mom and time seems to go a bit faster. I'm making money for the first time in my life, and I'm doing it legitimately. I put aside my art for a while decide that maybe I need to focus on work for a bit to get me out of the art slump. Things start to blur again. My work slips away from me. I'm not even making art  at this point. I'm just wasting away trying to make out what's going wrong with my life. I quit my job. I stop seeing my son. I start getting manic. I start hurting myself again. I'm getting into fights with anyone I can coax into it. I want the world to burn. I try to drink myself to death. I fail. What's the point in trying anymore. I can't even kill myself right. I mean I've already failed three times. A few months pass. I start to work again but it's not the same. I start to draw again..... But it's just not the same. I don't write as much anymore. I can't. It just pisses me off that I can't do anything with the stories I write. I still write in my head. I spend the day with and old friend and decide that maybe I'm not meant to be here. That maybe I should give this suicide thing one more shot. I plan out everything. I buy 50 Vicodin and a gallon of cheap vodka. I plan on doing everything all at once. I'm gonna take the pills and chase 'em down with the piss water. A half hour before my planned suicide attempt, my son calls me. He says he wants me to come over and sleep at his house. I decide to do it and stay there for two weeks. When I come home the pills and liquor are gone. A sign from god? Or a family that likes to steal from one another? I put suicide out of my mind. I move out of my grandparents. Me and my mom decided that maybe it would be a bit more healthy for me to live with her. I grab all my earthly belongings and move back in with my mom. I start taking a mood elevator called 5-htp. I spend the next few weeks angry at myself. The pills are helping somewhat. But there's this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that wants me to do something. I start to work with an old friend of mine. A writer. He's more into writing comedy stuff, and it gives me a good break from the super seriousness of my own writings. Today I woke up and felt fine. I smoked a bit of pot in the morning and got all my work done. I called my partner on Skype and we did a bit of back and fourth. I ate a nice meal, I took my meds....... So why the fuck am I so unhappy? Maybe because my past likes to creep up on me every now and then just to remind me that I'm a worthless fuck-up. Maybe it's just my brain telling me to do something productive. Or maybe I won't ever know true happiness until everyone knows who the fuck I am. I turn 21 in three weeks.... And even though I'm still very young by most people's standards, I feel like all the time in the world isn't enough. At any moment all the time I have left in my life can disappear in a flash. And it could very well be my own doing..........

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osseousTrahentem Featured By Owner Apr 4, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
xD a little too much fun?
Eesak Featured By Owner Apr 4, 2013  Student Traditional Artist
Yea it was my 21'st. Only just this morning did my head clear from all the festivities....
osseousTrahentem Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
apparently... according to DA today is your birthday! so, HAPPY BIRTHDAY
hulja Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
thx for watch... ;)
BrandonPalas Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2012  Professional Artist
Thanks for the watch! I'll try not to disappoint!
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