Have you ever felt pressure to give up creative hobbies for a “real” career?
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Hi hi hi! (˶ᵔᗜᵔ˶)ﾉﾞ- I’m a student currently working on a small passion project called ‘Still an Artist’
It’s about something I’ve personally struggled with and I know a lot of other artists do too - feeling like you have to eventually leave art behind to pursue a “stable” career path (medicine, science, etc.)
I’m trying to understand how common this experience is and how it affects people’s relationship with creativity.
I made a short anonymous survey and would really appreciate hearing from other artists and students here
Hi! (ᵔᵕᵔ)ﾉ
I'm creating 'Still an Artist', a student-led project dedicated to celebrating artists pursuing careers in healthcare and other
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Thank you so much if you take part - even just reading this means a lot!!
Tw: suicide, attempted murder on Crossbone (my character), panic attack, vomiting, betrayal (If anyone has any others, reblog me and tag me)
I made another picrew for them when this happens btw :)
The hands around my neck are like a brand. No. THE brand that I've known my whole life. I look up to who it is and I see a... face? The area is pitch black, like a black hole. As if the universe doesn't want me to see who it is.
I scratch at the hands on my throat, trying to claw them off. They don't move. I can feel blood dripping down my arms, I don't know whether it's mine or theirs. Maybe it's both. Darkness is surrounding my vision when I find a small gap in between their hands and my neck. I use all my remaining strength to yank off their hands.
As I feel the hands release my neck I gasp. The cold air hits my lungs and I can't seem to get enough. When I stop coughing for a moment and look up at my captor I see the face I thought I could trust. It's Emily.
The one I thought I could trust. My childhood best friend that I had to leave behind to continue my journey.
I sit up frantically on the floor beside my bed. Everything is a blur as I stand, I have to grab onto my bed to stop myself from tumbling to the ground in my frenzy to get away from my mind.
I start stumbling to the bathroom, bile rising in my throat. I get through the door when everything falls apart. I can feel the contents of my stomach leave me and I hurl what I had eaten the previous day onto the cold, tile floor, just missing the toilet. I continue to hurl everything in my stomach onto the floor as my panic steadily rises.
If I thought I was scared and panicking earlier, this is something else entirely. The walls are starting to close in and I can't catch my breath, it feels like I'm drowning in my thoughts.
When I don't have anything else to vomit and I force myself to stop dry heaving, I can't take it. The loudness in the silence, it's like the walls are crowding Into me, whispering and murmering about how much of a disappointment I am, and how I should've put the pieces together sooner.
The floor is shaking and twisting in ways that shouldn't even be possible. I try and stand back up but just collapse onto the floor again. In a desperate attempt to get away from the voices in my head and from the walls, I start half crawling, half dragging myself out of the bathroom.
I make it to my dresser, opening a drawer and pulling out the pistol I keep in it. I stare at it for a few moments before loading it with shaking hands and positioning it to the roof of my mouth. I can feel tears running down my face that I didnt even notice falling.
The vomiting feeling is back and the darkness I normally keep hidden and shoved down is starting to come through again.
I take a breath and pull the trigger before everything is able to catch up to me again. I don't even hear the bang before my vision goes black and I, along with my mind, disappear.
Background information: Crossbone (my persona) had someone attempt to murder them as a teenager (15-19). To protect them, their brain completely blocked the memory. They have been working hard to remember everything (without support from anyone else) and up to this point has found out everything except who tried to kill them. Whenever they have flashbacks, the person's face is blurred out or just not their. Emily was Crossbone's childhood best friend, their ride or die. When Crossbone was 23, they left their hometown and begged Emily to come with them. But she couldn't leave her life. So Crossbone had to leave without her.
This is my first (actual) time attempting to write 🙃 (I didn't realize I wrote so much until I scrolled up)
ALSO: I have never had any of this happen to me irl so I apologize if I got something wrong
Atlantic Puffins. The adult puffins return to the cliffs around 21:00 to bring food back to the nests, and the golden hour light is perfect for photographs.
photos by me. 2025-06-07, Runde, Norway. Our trip was so, so wonderful.
