visceral and ancient

I'm so very tired of never being wanted, never being the first choice, just here and that's what you get. Everyone settled for me, either because the ones they wanted are not available that day or because they're afraid of being without company. I'm never their first choice and that sucks.

My mom is the only person in my family that talks to me, really, the only one that messages me, the only family that calls me. She's the only one whose number I have because of this. That sucks too.

Nobody seems to want me. In all of my years of life that's something I've found to want more than anything else; to be wanted. I want to know what it's like to feel like people would miss me, the feeling that I'm good enough to be in their company and to feel like I'm a part of their life in such a way that leaves a hole when I'm gone. What will I leave behind if I don't have at least this?

About two year ago this summer I lost my best friend. A dog named Polar Bear, a yellow lab whose fur was nearly completely white, his nose black, he looked like a polar bear cub on the day of his birth, December 2nd, 2022.

He was the last of his litter, a rambunctious little potato-shaped ball of fluff, climbed into my arms and fell asleep. He was such a wild animal, leaping onto me in the early morning, every day was an excuse to play.

One day he had gotten sick, unfortunately I couldn't get him to the vet in time due to other circumstances. Whatever he had taken him within a day. I woke up that very morning with a text from my sister in law, asking me to remove his body from her and my brother's room.

Every day since then I blame myself. If only I had a job, if only I had the funds to get to a vet, if I had my own car to even attempt that. Everyday I blame myself, and even though I know I should forgive myself for something out of my power, every day feels like the day he passed.

I can't forgive myself, even though it's for what's best for me, I just can't. How do I forgive myself when every day feels like the day I lost the only creature that I know loved me?

Last Christmas, the day after anyways, I found an abandoned red heeler, I'm taking care of her until I can find her a home. I'm still hurting but she's been the light in that particular dark tunnel.

Started drawing again, even started coloring this time with pencils and paint. Used to love making art, but there's a point in my life that repeats where my depression takes hold of me and I quit for a while. It's so calming and grounding, creating, no matter your skill you should grab a pencil and create. There's just something about it that brings my soul back from behind the clouds and centers me. Art is a skill to be learned, not something you're born with, if you want to learn just get to it.

My skills are rusty now, but I've been doing daily (almost daily) exercises with lines, shapes, perspective, and shading. I think I'm improving somewhat.

I also upload to another blog of mine, but I don't exactly want to share that page here. I also upload pictures to my tiktok, along with videos of the process, but let's see if anybody can find that account. Doubt it, it's only a few followers and it's not like it's important to do such a treasure hunt. I'll share some of my art here though, just to show that even an amateur can create.

The first time I had coffee was on one of the worst days of my life. My mom handed me a little foam cup with cold water with mostly undissolved I stand coffee crystals. The taste was bitter that cold morning, but i didn't have breakfast so it was something.

This particular day was when I was seven, and that very day I had woken up to my first day homeless. My mom was doing everything she could to help me understand but remain hopeful despite our predicament. We were at a park which had an old fashioned jungle-gym, all steel, cold from the autumn morning.

We were there due to my stepfather being a jobless drunk, my mom was a stay-at-home mother until that very day. She would eventually go back to school once we were able to get into a shelter, but the plan to start a fulfilling career had ended once her health became an obstacle. Until then however we stayed in our car, our last roof until a local shelter in Fresno, California would open its doors to use once our turn on the waiting list came.