DIARY OF AN ARTSY PDD-NOS SCHIZO EFFECTIVE SHUT IN

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THIS IS VERY HARD FOR ME BEING THAT I GET SEVERE ANXIETY POSITNG ONLINE...

PLEASE BE NICE...

PEOPLE TELL ME I'M TALENTED AND I NEED TO GET OUT MORE... BUT NO ONE EVER SAYS ANYTHING BUT MEAN THINGS TO ME ONLINE ABOUT MY ART... SO I HAVE A HARD TIME WITH IT...


I'm a 26 year male...

I have a hard time with reality... and i'm awkward...

I have pdd-nos not aspergers...

I never did that well in school

always had a hard time with reading COMPRENSION and factual things BUT ALWAYS EXCLED AT ANYTHING CREATIVE

I kind of just live in my own little world doing my own little thing

I CAN WRITE BUT... BUT HAVE A HARD TIME UNDERSTANDING MY OWN WRITING.... I LIKE CREATIVE WRITING...

AS A HOBBY BUT DON'T CONSIDER MYSELF A REAL WRITER... I JUST LIKE WRITING POEMS FROM TIME TO TIME...

I'm able to memorize bits and peices of things but have a hard time memorizing it at an acedimic level


I tend to learn more through sounds and IMAGES and visual things than anything else...



My hearing is extremly senstive and my visual senses are very good... i'M creative too in these areas...


my reading comprension is alright but very lacking and reading doesn't hold my attention...


I just live in my own little world doing what makes me happy in my room...

saving what ever art anime and japanese culuure pics I find interesting off google...

I can't draw anymore more because my meds dry out my eyes real bad...

I take 10 pills a day...

I listen to what ever anime music I find inspiring...



I just do my own thing and I don't care whats popular...


I tried to get into watching anime every day just wasn't my thing... It didn't hold my attention every day...

I tried to get into reading mangas didn't inspire enough to do it every day... just like with anime...

When I was still into drawing all I did was save the art I like off the internet... and bought comic books for the art so

I could draw them... get inspired by them... but I never read them...


thats me... in a nut shell... in our days... I like images... music... and do read on and off on the internet... and creative writing

maybe reading up a little about japanese culture from time to time and otaku culuture... and world history

but me i'm my own person in my own fiction reality... living a life with pdd-nos and schezio affective...

thats me... and i'm proud of it... and I must accept who i'am in order to be happy....

i'm not a logical nerd... i'm a illogical one...

I want to get into scrap booking.... I have thousands of images on my computer...


my mom is getting me an autism advocate... to get out of the house and START A GROUP FOR ME...

sorry if i'm making no sense... i only make sense through creative things...

i'm wierd... but aren't we alll.....

i'm on ssi... but spend 50 dollars a month... on myself... and my parents get me stuff for christmas and my birthday....

when I get older I'm living with my older sister who has her masters in human rights and special education and is a teacher... over in boston... she is 29... that me in a nut shell...

I've been through hell and back... but these past 7 years I have found peace in art...

theres so much art online to save to my computer... I love it all...

HOPED YOU LIKE MY POEMS AND ART AND ROOM...






















Breaking stereotypes breaking the norm

a difference
a quality giving birth to new ideas
a reaction
based off misconception of that difference
the robot
the statue
the emotions it holds inside
to be free is to be one self
free to be considered unique or one of kind
acts of frustration
acts because of that difference
taking away the symptoms unpleasant
from that frustration
but not taking away the soul
the mind
the being the life inside
seeking freedom from an insensitive world
the difference
the mutation the cells
a new way of thinking
traced back through the ages
is it really a new difference
or a new beginning
an ending to that beginning
or the beginning of understanding
of uniqueness
in world where everyone wants to be the same

Power Struggle

humans the most intelligent
humans have the most power
humans the most divided
humans the most violent
a living thing like no other
a push of a button
a mushroom cloud
the earth could be gone
the most intelligent
the most destructive
not knowing right from wrong
what is holding us back
what is keeping us this way
so many opinions
while fighting is what caused the dismay.
the trap of mental fear
the burden of technology
with every pro there is a con
we know so little
what is true or false
an opinion that will fade with time
like all time like all opinions
will decay into oblivion
in hundreds of years
when humans will keep fighting
divided
wanting
all to believe
and take their side


disconnected

Earth.
Soil... slipping through fingers, sand of beach.
Planet alone spinning in empty space.
Love.
Pure feelings, a hearts capacity.
Intensity of a mothers first instinct.
Hatred.
Emotion so dark, for that which we don't understand.
Reality.
That which we perceive from our eyes point of view.
Humans.
A diversity of humans with different eyes and sight for the truth.
Humans fighting young and old. The cycle of an age old battle.
My eyes my soul immersed, in the dark woven horizon.
What is my purpose?...
What am I?
A soul trapped in a body...
Longing for the answers to a journey.
My material body the vessel, which appears to the eye.
Inside the soul my essence.
Knowing only that which only I feel.
My conscience my existence my actions.
Based on what I perceive to be real.
Is there a purpose to my actions?
When all and all, we perceive to be real is based...
On our view of knowledge given at birth?
What is true what is false?
The reality dawns upon, a setting blood red sun.
Hovering... to a burgundy moon eclipse.
A lost dieing planet, left scarred from wars.
What is the meaning of it all?
When the meaning. The meaning of everything may be a lie?
What does it mean to be biotic? Alive or dead?
What does it mean?
What is our true purpose?
The purpose of humans ?
What are we here for?
An intellectual being, using the wealth the gift of the mind for destruction.
Lost are humans... our souls.
We the tortured beings... disconnected.
From what ever our true cause may be.






Macrocosm

machines man made
machines and humans
a replication of a human mind in a machine....
Machines created for reason...
humans we have no purpose....
who created us?
have faith in science or religion
machines with a reason
living with humans
who have no reason
no meaning
to humans existence
just the reason
you want it to be
what are we?
who are we?
something god made for a reason?
something science can explain?
or a shadow?
a philosophy?
an illusion?
our creations?
the wires?
the brain not even whole?
maybe where machines too
created in cells
by beings far away
controlling our world
Our universe
just a sun
just a flame
a flame with a cycle
posed as a sun
beaming a projector
we are projected
the elements
everything
we know about
science and religion
a lie
outer space
in a dark closet
in a glass globe
spinning in a closet
an experiment
by who knows who is outside
Who is out side our world?
our enemy?
our god?
our creator?
or are we really alone?
spinning around
inside
the dark side

UNTITLED

demon fairy
white flower of poison
sodomy worms an apple
hell touched this fury
soaked it in fading piss
drown to the botTom
touch by little fists
angelic but demonic
demon seed
hells wrath
the new born child
demon of a new breed...
ancient the symbol
a bulb cores of beauty...
a woven mist covered spring
arouse it to ashe
ashe to soak in s**t
down below
sinking out of tune
sinking but never knowing
knowing the hours gloom...
shallow
defensless so raged the turmoil
hell sour in mist
roses shrivel
birth knows no light



FIENT ANGEL....

( I POSTED THIS ONE OVER ON SOME ANIME FORUM AND NO ONE SAID ANYTHING MAYBE YOU GUYS WILL LIKE IT... ITS A LOOSELY BASED FAN FICTION OF THE CHARACTER KIRKA FROM THE ANIME NOIR... )

“My reality is a constant interconnection, with all it was and all it has become, just a riddle my life of lies...that I must some how figure out. What tormenting silence is to some, is just a walk in the park down memory lane to me, comforting the forgotten lectures of what my nightmares still don't teach me. What lies beyond the masked endeavors of my hell numbing struggles, is being blind to my own feelings of sadness... The feeling of being barred from the heaven I never knew existed at a young age. Living in a decrypted planet with tarnished souls from a middle class child’s own sedated reality. I now live in the twilight paradise of a red river coma, a sedated tattered teen, I never saw the blinding light of of green worthless pieces of paper, yet felt my own memories erased, from the trauma its hardships deliver.

Working as an assassin I feel the earths soil crumble from a forgotten memory of simple and fun times, of walking down the steps barefoot in a distant flower garden ... the darkness I dwell in those moonlight memories something I vaguely remember I know is within me... as I travel to and from work in the night what lies in the pity of after shock I wonder... trauma is quite an experience... yet so is going so numb that nothing even frightens you.. not even the thought of dieng. All I know is a lie...All I experience is hidden within me some where...

Just a nimble little show doll... pale skin skinny fragile body with short Browne hair down to my ears with a slight wave. What is it that drives a shy girls ambition... to taint a reputation beyond anyone’s repairing I wonder... I wonder who I am or what i'm capable of...Its this wondering that drives my suspicison of who am... and all that I know which is death... but why Is that so... why is that all know...

I kill so fast so well... I'm known as a legend my name for hire... “fient angel”... a glimpse of beauty before death I suppose at least thats what A few have told me... before I killed them... I'm just still very much a child wondering in the dark all alone... looking for love under a scarlet ink jet crimson sky.

I wonder who I would be with out the shroad that covers my withered memory coma prison... I breath for my heart to beat alone everyday... an assassin is for hire not for loving... I don't feel the pain I know I should feel for my fate sealing actions... but was my reality scultped by me or is some one pulling the strings behind a bliss starved little girls heart... as my berrata shines my own reflection in my face, as I wipe the bloodstains off it from last night... these are my last words In my diary for now... I'm going out to meet some one... some one who may bare some truth to my blinded tattered soul...

I travel a shy awkward girl by day the skirt dressed bullet granting assassin by night... Who am I is all I want to know...”

Thanks for sharing.

(tl:dr)

To clarify... I drew for 5 years... i had to stop 3 years ago from dry eyes... I use to post over on the concept art forums... there brutal with their advice on there...

I did digital painting on Photoshop... cartooning on Photoshop and illustrator... and hand drawn pen and ink drawings...

the pictures on my wall are of posters I bought...

I also did some photography and photo manipulations...

I have the ability to copy photos down to the last detail... draw from my imagination... and use guides and morph them into my own drawings...

I used the internet to teach me how to do art....

I was very good at coming up with my own orginal ideas for my art... and developed sort of like my own style

heres some more of my art...

I like it!
My daughter has a diagnosis of PDD-NOS; thank you for reminding me that she has a future in which she can have a creative outlet.

Holy crap you're talented Love what you've posted here, both in regards to your visual and written work.

My advice to you is as such... Don't listen to those conceptual art *beep*wits... I don't know what it is about the arts, but so many people have a chip on their shoulder about what creativity 'should' be, which to me denies the very individuality of the pastime.

I love your poetry. Seriously I do. I feel like I connected and learned something from reading it, it's soul-enriching.

Hey sorry for the late response you guys... thanks for all the kind words... wasn't sure if anyone would like my stuff on here... but i'd figure i'd give it a try...

I put my whole heart into my art and writing... so it really means a lot to me when people like it.... really makes me happy...

My family wants me to try to get some stuff published... maybe locally i'll do it... i'm a very timid person... I couldn't handle getting a book published or anything...

currently I want to learn more about native american spirituality... and history... so i'm watching some videos on youtube... from various tribes...

I like earth based spirituality a lot... which is one of the reasons I like anime...


I already posted my best poems but heres a few more...



Solitude

Alone in darkness.
While sitting in rising sun.
My life my own beyond anyone...
Small talk of whispers. To a setting name.
Sun rising. I feel no prison. Alone I feel the rain.
I need no comfort for I know I'm not in danger...
Inside my world. To the world I’m the stranger.




shadows ( not sure if this one makes sense... but I like it.. )

Shadows
alone
sinking in shadows
what are shadows?
that bring us
the reflection of our selves
through the light?
night time
a passage
a sculpture
a haven
that is beyond the time.
what am I?....
who are you?
what is our difference
our shadows
our figure
surrounding an out line
which disappears
when the shadows
disappear in night time.
is it the emptiness
of a burden cast away
the black coldness
that runs the river
of blood
through our veins
I wonder
what is blood
that runs hot
through our veins
the liquid
the shadows
emerge upon
a broken down sky
what is it all?
what does it mean?
what do I mean?
does the blood
within our veins
feel the fear of shadows
our reflections in black
stalking us in the day time
the world
the earth
what is its shadow
is the earth just a shadow?
are we even alive?
alive in a depth
a darkness inset
what is solid?
a feeling
a dream
an illusion?
are our shadows solid
us transparent, and solid inside?

I certainly know what it's all about being timid with one's art. I'm my own worst critic.