weirdest part about being an artist (and, to an extent, a writer too) is feeling like. shameful that you aren’t creating massive pieces of art. how dare i not line and color and shade every drawing. how dare i only draw two poses. how dare i only write 1k words. how dare i not write an entire book. how dare i
Hey while we’re on the topic there are glitches on this website old enough to graduate middle school and the search function hasn’t worked in over a decade and tags are still broken on mobile and completely innocuous tags are still blacklisted and wiped clean for being “potentially NSFW” and the search function is disabled from dashboard view-only blogs and jumping to individual blogs via reblogs has been made actively difficult on purpose and you won’t ban r.adfems and you won’t ban nazis or antivaxxers and you won’t do jack about harassment but you’ll ban black and queer and especially transfem bloggers for breathing funny and you’ll whip out unforeseen moderation tools to unperson someone’s blog for pointing out potential transphobic sympathies among this site’s admins and you’ll have the gall to call yourself The Queerest Site On The Net to advertise in spite of all this and you’ll advertise incessantly and obnoxiously to the point of being overly personable and borderline guilt-trippy without putting any funds or effort or anything into fixing any of the above
when your pet comes to you from another room, the preceding moments meant that they were alone somewhere and thought about YOU, an animal brain literally thought about you and came to you to see what you were doing. that’s love, unconditional.
