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Wandering mind, full of creation

Meandering lines, lost in elation 

Each stroke, I broke a little inside

Each fate, I hate. My will defied

I painted this in Feb 2022 about what it's like to be an artist with repetitive strain injury. In 2008, When I was 18, I made my first comic titled 1000 Words, it was about an artist helping a little girl with a broken family similar to my own. It received such positive feedback that I changed my Environmental Science major at UCBerkeley to Art major. Ever since then, my goal has been to tell stories with my art. Stories that are important to me. My next comic, Knite, was about a boy who wants to put the stars back into the polluted skies of China, my homeland. The comic after that, Fisheye Placebo, is a cyberpunk story about living in the age of technology, about fighting censorship and propaganda.

Unfortunately, I never got to finish Knite nor Fisheye Placebo. By the time I was 24, I was drawing day and night with no regards to my health. Not only did I get repetitive strain injury in my drawing hand, but my entire health suffered. My roommates had to rush me to the ER after fainting one night. I remember looking at my swollen right hand, my fingers like sausages, not even able to hold a pen, and just cry.

I've gone to the doctors and physical therapists. One told me I have Lupus (I do not), and another told me to put ice on it. More recently, I met a friend who happens to an amazing physical therapist and he was able to help me regain a lot of use of my hand. At my worst, I could only draw an hour a week, but now I am able to draw 2 hours a day. My hand is unlikely to fully heal, but I'm so grateful to regain what I have.

(Spoilers, if you can even tell what I'm talking about)

An ultracapitalist warlord is harrasing cyborg kids for a comic book. You can help the kids by pulling sick skateboard tricks. The reward is a playable magical girl (who also pulls sick skateboard tricks).

A megacorporation has made the stock exchange into a bloodsport.

Your grandad tries to corrupt a computer. The only way to stop him is by jumping into cyberspace and blasting orchestral dubstep at him.

A room on your ship has been taken over by talking cancer cells. This is entirely beneficial to you.

An autistic child figured out who the main antagonist of the universe is. Some people did a cult about it.

The Pope of Capitalism is hiding in his own pocket dimension. You fight him by throwing a disc at ghosts.

Some of the characters you play have built-in weaponry. One of them has a built-in cat.

The alternate reality version of you has been trapped in a storybook fighting a one-person rebellion against a mad child king.

Sometimes you get attacked by the pinnacle of edgelords who is also your grandad's boytoy. He is a pushover, but somehow his disciples aren't.

You gain the ability to own and pilot a big ship. For unexplained reasons the ship is powered by a mummified finger in a jar.

One time you pilot a robot ghost to fight soldiers in space while a ship captain sings a shanty at you.

Turns out your adoptive mother is really your adoptive mother masquerading as your adoptive mother. Her ex blames you for this.

The final objective of a climactic story mission involves you helping your mother fight her abusive ex and preventing the corpse of your grandmother from eating the sun.

The leading scientist of a now long-dead empire has gone missing. You need to help his husband and their three talking pets fight living mannequin arms using a spellbook.

Gale tries to become a god because he has been made to feel by Mystra that he could never be enough the way he is.

Astarion becomes a carbon copy of his abuser because of the fear he instilled in him that makes him believe he can only be safe through power.

Shadowheart gives herself entirely to the very goddess who stole her whole life from her because she was made to believe she owed it to her and that she could only regain her lost memory through her.

Lae'zel is killed and consumed by the queen who enslaved her people because she was made to believe that she could only exist and be known through her devotion to her.

Wyll swears eternal servitude to the hells because he was made to feel by Mizora that anything short of total and complete sacrifice for his father was tantamount to killing him himself and his only worth was what he could do for others.

Karlach burns up and dies because she's been made to feel that her life can never be her own and that the only way to keep hold of her autonomy is through death.

And the great irony is that, in getting what they want, they ensure they get what they most fear.

Gale will never feel like he is enough.

Astarion still never stop being afraid.

Shadowheart will never know who she is.

Lae'zel will die in obscurity, never known you her people.

Wyll will never truly be able to reconsile with his father or devote himself fully to the people he wants to help most.

Karlach still doesn't get to live her life free of the hells. Zariel still gets the last laugh.

It's by overcoming their insecurities and fears that they come to understand what they truly want and find happiness.

I far prefer this style of "what you want may not be what you need" like of story to the "the most healthy thing in life it's acceptance of not being happy" style that's so popular. When what you want isn't what you need, it's not generally because you were meant to be humbled or because you needed to accept a level of unhappiness in order to be "healthy".

It's because what you think you want is often based on fears and insecurities. Each character's good ending is not them realizing "you can't get what you want", it's realizing they never really wanted it in the first place. And the thing they thought they'd get from it : acceptance, safety, family, renown, etc, they DO get, because of the support your charger gives them. And they are so much happier for it.

anytime something goes wrong, say things like "ah well at least i'm beautiful and charming and everyone loves me." when you forget something, try "my big huge brain is so smart and thinking about too many other very big wizardly thoughts you wouldn't even understand." when you're frustrated by one of your symptoms, start talking like you're in My Immortal. "Life has come for me but my eyes are beautiful pools of gorgeous fire and my hair is amazing. I stuck my middle finger up at life and told it to fuck off and it did."

just... try it for a month or two. try saying the most absurdly self-congratulatory shit you can think of.

i know it's tempting to make suicide or self-harm jokes. and for me at least, a decade ago (!) when someone suggested i stop making those kinds of jokes, i was kind of at a loss for what to replace them with. i wanted to make light of these moments, but genuinely (at the time) my first thought really was suicidal ideation. there was a part of me that even felt like ... i was kind of "making light" of that voice. that if i could say i want to die lol, it would help take the sting out of that genuine (albeit passive) desire. like i could turn my illness into a joke.

when i started complimenting myself instead, it felt awkward and stupid. it felt really, really ironic. what i was actually saying was nobody would ever think this stuff about me, that's what makes it so fucking funny.

but. the effect was immediate. first thing i noticed was the people around me. when i dropped a glass and said ah my skin is too beautiful and sleek the glass has swooned and broken for me, other people were suddenly overjoyed to jump in with the joke. rather than making an awkward moment, we'd both start cracking up. ah princess sleek hands, i've heard of you.

i was 19. i hadn't noticed i'd been making others tense when i said i want it all to end. i know now that it's incredibly hard to know how to walk that moment - do you talk to them about your concern? do you potentially make them uncomfortable by asking if they're okay? do you ignore the situation? do you help them pick up the glass, or do they need to do it by themselves? are they genuinely made suicidal over this small moment? and most importantly, how do you - without professional training or supplies - actually help?

most people want to help you pick up the glass in your life, they just have no fucking idea how to do it. they don't want to make anything worse. they don't want to make assumptions about you. they love you, they're scared for you - and being scared makes people kind of freeze up. it's not because they don't love you. it's because they do.

now when something bad happens, my first thought is how can i make a stupid joke about this. it isn't my brain saying you're a dumb fucking bitch. i spend more time laughing. i spend more time being gentle with myself. i spend more time feeling good.

and the thing is - what's kind of funny - is that you'd be surprised by how many people agree with you. the first time i said i'm too pretty to understand that, someone else said to be fair you're the prettiest person in this room. i promise - you really don't know how kindly your friends see you. but they love you for a reason. they sort of reverse-velveteen-rabbit you. your weird and ugly spots fade away and you just become... the love they want to give you.