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For a fun fact, Svetlana Chmakova is the same artist who created “Dramacon” and “Nightschool” manga.  Also the manga adaptation of ”Witch & Wizard”! 

Despite going through several years of hardships in regards to my mental health, my looks have never been a problem. Not because I saw myself as stunning, I just did not care about my body in any way.

That perception of self took a complete 180 once I figured out I was trans. I realized "Wow, there are so many cool pieces of clothing that I wanna wear" and "Wow, I like the way my face looks with some proper self care a lot more". Beginning to genuinely care about how I want to present myself, despite how scary it may be sometimes, made me feel a lot better and happier, loving myself instead of dismissing me.

In olden times, people had daily chores and other things to do but their workload/ daily working hours was actually much lower than it is today. Even in farming communities.

The concept of working super hard every day actually comes from capitalism, which in turn comes from Puritanical ideology.

The Puritans believed in salvation through work and in no play.

Early capitalists adopted this ideology because it meant higher productivity and therefore more money if their factories were running near constantly.

The idea of needing to be continuously productive in order to be useful/ allowed things like food and shelter, is actually quite an insidious ideal that is deeply rooted in the American culture.

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“I’m a therapist and keep this poster in my waiting room, apparently it’s saved a few lives.”

I don’t like the phrase “a cry for help.” I just don’t like how it sounds. When somebody says to me, “I’m thinking about suicide. I have a plan: I just need a reason not to do it,” the last thing I see is helplessness.

I think your depression has been beating you up for years. It’s called you ugly, and stupid, and pathetic, and a failure, for so long that you’ve forgotten that it’s wrong. You don’t see any good in yourself, and you don’t have any hope.

But still here you are: you’ve come over to me, banged on my door and said, “HEY! Staying alive is REALLY HARD right now! Just give me something to fight with! I don’t care if it’s a stick! Give me a stick and I can stay alive!”

How is that helpless? I think that’s incredible. You’re like a marine: trapped for years behind enemy lines. Your gun has been taken away, you’re out of ammo, you’re malnourished, and you’ve probably caught some kind of jungle virus that’s making you hallucinate giant spiders.

And you’re still just going, “GIVE ME A STICK. I’M NOT DYING OUT HERE.” “A cry for help” makes it sound like I’m supposed to take pity on you, but you don’t need my pity. This isn’t pathetic. This is the will to survive. This is how humans lived long enough to become the dominant species.

With NO hope, running on NOTHING, you’re ready to cut through a hundred miles of hostile jungle with nothing but a stick, if that’s what it takes to get to safety.

All I’m doing is handing out sticks.

‘WHY ARE YOU SO LAZY?’

But you’re not lazy. Lazy is when you shrug things off because you can’t summon up the give-a-damn. When you’re curled up tight in your chair at your desk, alone and grey and desperately wishing that you had your life in order, that you did all those things you had to do, that it didn’t feel like breaking rocks just to feed and clothe yourself and get some sleep, that’s not lazy.

People don’t understand. You tell them “It’s hard.” They tell you “No it isn’t, you’re just lazy.”

You start to wonder if they’re right.

is breaking those rocks easy for everyone else? Are they that much stronger than you?

They don’t look like they’re struggling.

“Just try harder,” they say. But you’re trying. It’s not working.

Breaking boulders in your path until you’re spent isn’t lazy. And you do it day after day after day.

You’re not lazy. Most people don’t have those rocks to break. They don’t even know what it’s like to have to break rocks to get things done. They don’t understand how hard you have to work, and how hopeless you can feel, when you try and fail to do what they do so easily. Things are harder for you. They really are. And if those people had to deal with your problems, they wouldn’t be doing any better.