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Description
I don't have a title for this one. xD I think it speaks for itself.

For storyboarding class we're keeping a journal of journal comics which are just random sketched hardly refined simple comics we throw down to just crank stuff out and develop and get a feel for our style. This is the first one I created for that, and I'll be doing one new one every week, maybe more if I get multiple ideas.

I regret that I didn't make myself shorter in the second panel, just wasn't thinking enough or doing enough of a rough sketch. But it's okay because these are supposed to be rough and don't have to be perfect. This is kind of a very quick summary of my life and experience with art/being an artist.

There's actually a lot of history behind these simple panels, and I hope you read my following history...

(First panel)
As a kid I loved to draw, and continued to love drawing. As a child I was much more free spirited, cheerful, and optimistic, as most children probably are. Bad social experiences with other kids who rejected me or betrayed my trust, teachers and adults who wore on my trust or were unkind to me, and the things I did in my early teen years destroyed that free spirit.

(Second panel)
When I hit my early teen years (which were absolutely horrid and truly I believe they are the soul origin of where all my mental problems really developed and festered, eventually growing to what they are today) I still loved to draw and I began to improve in my style, but all I wanted to do was draw. I brought my sketchbook or loose white paper everywhere to family gatherings to school etc and I shut everyone out and just focused on drawing and my characters. I was a pretty bratty teen that loathed absolutely everything, including myself. I created all kinds of drama for myself and my family. I put my family through hell. I put myself through hell. It was a horrible, stupid few years in which I completely destroyed myself.

(Third panel)
Later I graduated high school at 18 and started my first year commuting to an art college downtown. I had to get up early in the morning (5:30am) for breakfast and getting ready. Left home at 6:08am to get "front row" parking at the train station (so I didn't have to park in the several story packed parking garage,) waited at the train station for the 6:35am train, rode it down to the city and arrived in the city at 7:35am give or take. Walked several blocks for half hour to the college for class at 8:00am, stayed for my 3-hour life drawing class (and on Tuesdays an hour long gen ed,) then walked the half hour back to the train station and got home around 1:30pm-3pmish depending on the day. Then I only had a 1-2 hour resting/free time period after which I had to drive a half hour to my job at a drama-filled family owned restaurant where everyone talked behind everyone else's back. And I would work and depending on the day get home anytime from 9pm-11pm after which I would have very little time to do homework and I would have to go to sleep and repeat. Needless to say it was a brutal year, I was constantly tired, I would fall asleep in class and at a point FELL ASLEEP /STANDING UP/ which wigged me out. I was drained, tired, uninspired, unmotivated, had no friends at the college, it was a rough rough rough year. And I certainly struggled with my personal art and fell behind on it.

(Fourth panel)
Today I am on my fourth year of college (however I'm only a junior credit-wise) and in the past few months I feel that my depression and anxiety has not gotten better, but worse. My desire and motivation for my art and for my life has seriously diminished to a point that is terrifying for me. Despite going through depression and self-harm I've never actually wanted to kill myself. There might've been times I repressed from my teen years of wanting to just die but I don't recall any. I had a moment actually during our family vacation where I was laying in bed and my mind was going all kinds of places but I suddenly came to this intrusive thought of "I could jump off the porch outside it's like a 20 foot drop or so" and I've had that kind of stuff before of just thinking about it without any desire of actually following through with it or doing it, and I continued to think "I don't actually want to do that though I mean I have so much to live for and stuff I want to do..." but then I had this sudden rush of "...do I?" and I was hit suddenly with this realization that I didn't want to do stuff anymore, I didn't have things I want to live for, and it was absolutely /horrifying/ to me. I literally instantly began bawling, overcome with complete sorrow and fear. I was so scared, I couldn't believe I'd reached that point, I couldn't believe I'd actually thought that, it was horrifying to me that I was at a point where my drive was absolutely gone, my passion diminished, my connection and love for my friends and family completely absent. I just wanted to be held, I just wanted to be told that I was loved, that I mattered, that I was worth something, I heavily contemplating walking to the room my brothers were in, covered in tears and asking them those questions. Ultimately I didn't and I just let it all flow out but it was a good half hour of constant, heavy, pure distress. I started having low key anxiety attacks at work when handling customers where I would heat up and feel on the verge of tears just from talking to them and taking their order. I got worse at self-discipline, accepting the suffering that would come instead of avoiding it. In general I felt more depressed and more anxious and more lost. My drive and desire and passion for my art completely dissolved. I started a project to attempt to win 25k in scholarship money, but completely dropped the ball. I had no passion, no desire, no drive, no goal, no dream, I had just given up completely. On top of everything my computer died a few weeks before college started while I was at home, and I lost the chance to take one of our monitors with me for movies and video games. The computer was luckily able to be repaired for free, and it is now repaired, my parents only have to ship it to me. At the time I drew this comic all of this was still very true and very heavy.

However I'm happy to inform you that I am presently, at the time at least that I am typing this, feeling much better. My drive has started to return, I'm trying out a stimulant medication to get me uppity and more driven and it seems to be working (but I've only taken it two days and it's very possibly to only be a placebo affect right now) but whether it is or not I'm starting to produce art again, art I love, art that inspires myself, and art that will hopefully inspire people who watch me as well.

ANYWAY sorry for that whole ramble/unload, thank you so much if you read my history and my struggles, I appreciate it.

Artwork by myself
Please do not repost/reuse/copy my work without permission or source!

Description
I don't have a title for this one. xD I think it speaks for itself.

For storyboarding class we're keeping a journal of journal comics which are just random sketched hardly refined simple comics we throw down to just crank stuff out and develop and get a feel for our style. This is the first one I created for that, and I'll be doing one new one every week, maybe more if I get multiple ideas.

I regret that I didn't make myself shorter in the second panel, just wasn't thinking enough or doing enough of a rough sketch. But it's okay because these are supposed to be rough and don't have to be perfect. This is kind of a very quick summary of my life and experience with art/being an artist.

There's actually a lot of history behind these simple panels, and I hope you read my following history...

(First panel)
As a kid I loved to draw, and continued to love drawing. As a child I was much more free spirited, cheerful, and optimistic, as most children probably are. Bad social experiences with other kids who rejected me or betrayed my trust, teachers and adults who wore on my trust or were unkind to me, and the things I did in my early teen years destroyed that free spirit.

(Second panel)
When I hit my early teen years (which were absolutely horrid and truly I believe they are the soul origin of where all my mental problems really developed and festered, eventually growing to what they are today) I still loved to draw and I began to improve in my style, but all I wanted to do was draw. I brought my sketchbook or loose white paper everywhere to family gatherings to school etc and I shut everyone out and just focused on drawing and my characters. I was a pretty bratty teen that loathed absolutely everything, including myself. I created all kinds of drama for myself and my family. I put my family through hell. I put myself through hell. It was a horrible, stupid few years in which I completely destroyed myself.

(Third panel)
Later I graduated high school at 18 and started my first year commuting to an art college downtown. I had to get up early in the morning (5:30am) for breakfast and getting ready. Left home at 6:08am to get "front row" parking at the train station (so I didn't have to park in the several story packed parking garage,) waited at the train station for the 6:35am train, rode it down to the city and arrived in the city at 7:35am give or take. Walked several blocks for half hour to the college for class at 8:00am, stayed for my 3-hour life drawing class (and on Tuesdays an hour long gen ed,) then walked the half hour back to the train station and got home around 1:30pm-3pmish depending on the day. Then I only had a 1-2 hour resting/free time period after which I had to drive a half hour to my job at a drama-filled family owned restaurant where everyone talked behind everyone else's back. And I would work and depending on the day get home anytime from 9pm-11pm after which I would have very little time to do homework and I would have to go to sleep and repeat. Needless to say it was a brutal year, I was constantly tired, I would fall asleep in class and at a point FELL ASLEEP /STANDING UP/ which wigged me out. I was drained, tired, uninspired, unmotivated, had no friends at the college, it was a rough rough rough year. And I certainly struggled with my personal art and fell behind on it.

(Fourth panel)
Today I am on my fourth year of college (however I'm only a junior credit-wise) and in the past few months I feel that my depression and anxiety has not gotten better, but worse. My desire and motivation for my art and for my life has seriously diminished to a point that is terrifying for me. Despite going through depression and self-harm I've never actually wanted to kill myself. There might've been times I repressed from my teen years of wanting to just die but I don't recall any. I had a moment actually during our family vacation where I was laying in bed and my mind was going all kinds of places but I suddenly came to this intrusive thought of "I could jump off the porch outside it's like a 20 foot drop or so" and I've had that kind of stuff before of just thinking about it without any desire of actually following through with it or doing it, and I continued to think "I don't actually want to do that though I mean I have so much to live for and stuff I want to do..." but then I had this sudden rush of "...do I?" and I was hit suddenly with this realization that I didn't want to do stuff anymore, I didn't have things I want to live for, and it was absolutely /horrifying/ to me. I literally instantly began bawling, overcome with complete sorrow and fear. I was so scared, I couldn't believe I'd reached that point, I couldn't believe I'd actually thought that, it was horrifying to me that I was at a point where my drive was absolutely gone, my passion diminished, my connection and love for my friends and family completely absent. I just wanted to be held, I just wanted to be told that I was loved, that I mattered, that I was worth something, I heavily contemplating walking to the room my brothers were in, covered in tears and asking them those questions. Ultimately I didn't and I just let it all flow out but it was a good half hour of constant, heavy, pure distress. I started having low key anxiety attacks at work when handling customers where I would heat up and feel on the verge of tears just from talking to them and taking their order. I got worse at self-discipline, accepting the suffering that would come instead of avoiding it. In general I felt more depressed and more anxious and more lost. My drive and desire and passion for my art completely dissolved. I started a project to attempt to win 25k in scholarship money, but completely dropped the ball. I had no passion, no desire, no drive, no goal, no dream, I had just given up completely. On top of everything my computer died a few weeks before college started while I was at home, and I lost the chance to take one of our monitors with me for movies and video games. The computer was luckily able to be repaired for free, and it is now repaired, my parents only have to ship it to me. At the time I drew this comic all of this was still very true and very heavy.

However I'm happy to inform you that I am presently, at the time at least that I am typing this, feeling much better. My drive has started to return, I'm trying out a stimulant medication to get me uppity and more driven and it seems to be working (but I've only taken it two days and it's very possibly to only be a placebo affect right now) but whether it is or not I'm starting to produce art again, art I love, art that inspires myself, and art that will hopefully inspire people who watch me as well.

ANYWAY sorry for that whole ramble/unload, thank you so much if you read my history and my struggles, I appreciate it.

Artwork by myself
Please do not repost/reuse/copy my work without permission or source!