insanely tired

she/her, call me mad // main: @notinsanejustmad // I like datamoshing pictures, editing them, writing poems and writing stories :D watch me post those when i gather some motivation.. or when i decide to post old stuff

[justinsanenotmad]

socialismo y amor

(socialism and love)

[justinsanenotmad]

my cats

now documenting my art on my website too:

[justinsanenotmad]

cute printtt

[justinsanenotmad]

[justinsanenotmad]

[justinsanenotmad]

all cats are beirijuewbruwnrjw

[justinsanenotmad]

on my way to print some shirts

[justinsanenotmad]

[justinsanenotmad]

on my way to print some shirts

[justinsanenotmad]

should i make a collection of all my art with cats

[justinsanenotmad]

apparently i never posted this one here

[justinsanenotmad]

[justinsanenotmad]

How to get everything done - a zine

[justinsanenotmad]

started making a new zine :3

[notinsanejustmad]

this is me btw

[justinsanenotmad]

my website now has a really beautiful blog section where i will also be updating my short story (might not work on mobile)

[justinsanenotmad]

(part 1)

I lean on the window of the subway and relax my muscles. It's nice to feel my body being moved by the swinging and shifting speeds. I spend so much time on the subway and it's strangely calming to feel myself getting somewhere else without having to think about it. I like that it takes me some time to get to a place where I can focus. I use this time to think about all the things I can never force myself to spend time thinking about. I turn up the volume on my music. Music always helps me think. I get lost in thought very quickly with music. That's gotten me some concerned questions on concerts, just standing there, staring and thinking. Right now I'm thinking about earlier, my morning with her. And all the work I have to get done. Fuck. I think about how much time I have left. If I get enough done today I get to procrastinate tomorrow. As a treat. I finally get to the university and find a place in the library. I sit in my seat and try to find a position that doesn't feel like I'm being tortured. It would be so nice to be able to concentrate at home. I set up my laptop and get up to find a book related to my topic so I can feel like I'm doing research for my paper. I sit down again, give up on trying to find a comfortable position and log into my messaging app. Not looking at my phone every few minutes is going to make me feel so much more productive. My thigh is tingling again. It's hard to not check up on it. How am I even supposed to concentrate like this. I hate knowing the scar will be gone so soon, makes sitting here feel like wasted time. I tab over to my messages and catch a message from my girlfriend coming in. She's going out with a few friends and is going to be home late. I totally forgot it's Friday. I tab back to the document I'm working on and write a few lines. References for all of this can always be found later. It's Friday, I should do something tonight if my girlfriend's also gonna be out. I tab back to messages and open a chat with my best friend. I wonder what she's doing right now. Probably still in bed, she always works late Thursdays. I click the message box: "Hey Liv, my girlfriend's out this night and I wanted to ask if you'd like to meet up tonight?". I look at the message for a few moments and then press backspace. "Hey Liv, your place tonight?". My keyboard clacks loudly as I press send. My thigh had stopped tingling for a while but it reminds me it's still there with a little prickling, now that I can't distract my brain enough. Looking at it earlier was nice, I like having something to remember I'm loved. I touch the spot over my pants, stretching the loose fitting jeans under my fingers to feel snug on my thigh. My fingers move and I sigh, feeling the rough fabric scratch over my skin. The sensory input fills my brain and flushes out my chaotic thoughts. I tab over to my document and start writing again.

[notinsanejustmad]

I was totally lost in thought while washing the dishes from the breakfast she made. The scar on my thigh tingled in response to my thoughts. That scar will be gone soon, like all the others, but I make a mental note to go look at it when I'm done here. Just to be sure. She made us some scrambled egg with vegetables to eat before she had to leave for work. Just like everything she makes for me now it tasted amazing, although I still remember the times when she was just starting to learn to cook. She's gone to work now and like always it feels kind of surreal to be here alone, thinking of her.

I scrape off the burnt bits off the pan and dry the last dishes before returning to the bedroom and sitting down in front of the mirror. I take off my sweatpants and position myself on the bed so I can look at the scar on my outer thigh. It still looks pink, but that's not unusual. I trace it with my fingers and watch it lose and regain colour under pressure. I like the form it has, its curve complementing my body in an interesting but beautiful way. It's a really nice scar. I touch different spots, exploring the sensitivity my skin has. It belongs to me, I think, even if it's the mark of someone else, but isn't this how love works in general? Briefly looking up, I see myself smiling in the mirror. I wish these scars wouldn't fade so fast but in some ways it's better this way.

I look at it, letting my fingers wander over the spot while thinking about earlier, before managing to shift focus and continue changing my outfit for one that's more appropriate for going to the university library. I got some work that needs to get done.