”If you end up with a boring miserable life because you listened to your mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest, or some guy on television telling you how to do your shit, then you deserve it.” — Frank Zappa
Something I drew as an affirmation to myself — the injuries on Johnny’s face are based on my own massive head trauma from a suicide attempt in 2024, the eye photo is a picture of my own eye from that time…this is to represent the sentiment that I’d rather die for what I believe in than live to compromise it — nor will I compromise it in the face of a threat to my life.
I’ve noticed that after people are hurt, they often stop believing in the things they once thought were right — not because those things became wrong, but because the people who hurt them came to represent them. Others go the opposite direction: they file away their convictions just to be accepted by people they don’t even agree with, as though belonging is worth more than integrity. I understand why it happens, but I can’t accept it for myself. To me, that’s how harm perpetuates itself: not only by teaching us to distrust what’s good, but by persuading us to betray ourselves in exchange for approval. I’d rather carry the consequences of my convictions than let pain or the fear of being alone decide who I am.
I’ve been having a lot of flashbacks to my suicide attempts lately, and I’ve found myself on the brink again recently. If anything, it’s only reinforced this conviction. Fear doesn’t get to decide who I am. Fuck fear.
