|My best in a long time. So proud of this.|
Hello dear friends! My name is Jordan. I'm an aspiring animator/character designer currently freelancing as I try to find my way in the world. I have a deep love for animals and people, and sitting on the swing drawing.
My bunny Frisk (as you can see above) is my life and heart and lil baby.
I truly love people, so don't be shy. I love socializing so feel free to start a conversation on my page. Please leave notes to more private matters/commission matters. They get cluttered easily!
I love to look at other' art so don't be shy to ask me. I critique fairly and love to take fellow artists under my wing.
Bottom line is I'm a girl that just wants to see the world happy!
It's 4 am. I've taken my sleeping pill but I can't sleep because the pain is too great, and I can't take my morphine because that and my sleeping pill could kill me.
You know...I thought I might finally be okay. I don't mean physically, I mean finally at the point of acceptance that things would always be this way. But then it happens and I'm back to where I started: bedridden, wishing for a death that will never come because I'm too much of a pussy to end my own life.
"It'll get better", people said, and they were right. Once I had my injection I was almost painless for a month. A few bad days but that was about it. I had hope, hope I could maybe, finally get my life back. ...But the injection wears off after about a month and I can't have the next one until another two months have passed.
I'm just right back to square one. Sure, sure, I'm pretty good for about a month, but what about the other two until I can have my treatment again? I can't work like that. I can't work for one month and not be able to again for about two months. That's not how this works. That's not how the WORLD works.
And then I hear remarks "well I'm sore too, but I can still do stuff." And if only they knew. If only they realized that my every movement it feels like someone is stabbing up me, or that my legs are being crushed, daggers pressed into my back, pain shooting down my legs until I finally just keel over and have to go back to bed. Back to solitude and pain killers and wishing it would all end.
There's nothing I can do. There's nothing they can do. My disease is too complicated to treat, with bad tissue that have penetrated too deep into ligaments, other tissue and organs. The doctors can't find it, so they can't remove it. And a hysterectomy, the last resort does not guarantee the removal of endometriosis, and can leave you with far worse damages there's no going back from.
I was so excited to move, cause I'd be right there in society. Five minutes away from stores for when I finally got a job, but how, /how/ am I supposed to be able to get to them if the majority of the time...I can't walk?
This disease saps every emotional and physical strength from my body, making it hard to do anything, draw, create the portfolio I need to get into the industry, and even if I did. How long would I be able to stay? A month, until the treatment wore off?
I feel like I'm at a standstill, one I'll never leave. Every time I see a beacon of hope something snuffs it. I can't even help my grandparents pack to move. I can't do anything but sit here, sleep here and pray I get a window of relief to finally be able to do something.
What kind of granddaughter am I, not being able to help them when they need it? What use to society am I supposed to be, like this?