♡WTF AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE♡

Scrambled to find a mirror after coming across prim-bot’s recent post-

The only mirror I could find was this fancy ass hand held one… My hand hates me now, I’m sure of it

Wasn’t planning on rendering this, and honestly I think it looks better without it. The other images will be below :]

Without images—> flats—> line art

and a close up just cause

everything in your house. is alive.

every appliance, every piece of furniture. the air you breathe, the water you flush down the toilet. the goddamn toilet itself.

they've been alive, the whole time. watching, listening, judging. there is nothing they do not know. they've seen and heard everything you thought was private.

think of all those moments you have when you're alone in your home. the things you would never let anyone else see. every gross, embarrassing, intimate, heartbroken, and painful moment. even your nightmares were laughing at you.

and you were never actually alone. for any of it.

those nights you cried yourself to sleep? your bed could feel your tears soaking into her.

that time you got so sick you spent the whole day on the bathroom floor? the floor could feel herself grow slippery with your sweat.

and it's not their fault, of course it isn't. i'm sure Betty would have held you if she could, stroking your back until you fell asleep. i'm sure florence would have gotten you a cool rag and a glass of water if she'd been able.

it's as much torture for them as it is for you.

maybe when you're mad your slam your doors. or maybe you throw your dirty clothes into a corner and wait too long to wash them again. maybe you once plugged in one too many things and blew a fuse.

and none of them, not dorian or dirk or eddie or volt were able to tell you that you were hurting them. they could only suffer and endure.

and that's not your fault. if you'd known they could feel, you'd have been much more careful. but you still hurt them all the same.