#bleedingbutterfliesbook

[sunnyanddumb98]

"As I clean out the dead butterflies of Valentina's heartbreak, I recall the first time I heard the myth. I never thought it was real—butterflies that live in the stomach and flap their wings when a person feels emotions such as love, fear, or anticipation—butterflies that you can lose if you're not careful even bleed them out. Nonsense"

Quote From the book I'm currently writing

[sunnyanddumb98]

INTRODUCTION

Update 11 sept 2025

Hi, I’m Karla (27)

I spend most of my life writing, drawing, thinking. When I’m not doing that, I’m boxing, walking, or playing my ukulele drinking coffe—but honestly, the core of me is creating. I’ve chosen and abandoned art countless times, but it always calls me back. It’s my career and the place where I dream the most.

I once worked for two years on my first book, Bleeding Butterflies. With the help of editors I reshaped it into something that didn’t feel like mine, and I left it behind. That experience taught me the one thing I want most as an artist: blind conviction in my own vision.

Right now:

I’ve written 60+ poems (kept in a quiet .doc, for now).

I’m creating a post-apocalyptic comic about small human victories after everything has been defeated. I’ll self-publish once I have at least 10 pages.

I want to make experimental short films, and one day study at Goldsmiths in London.

I dream of traveling to Japan with my best friend, boxing more, playing covers on ukulele, and recording what I think along the way.

I’m also in therapy. Right now I’m working through avoidance, food and smut addiction, and the fear of choosing and committing to a path. What I want is a quieter, more integral life—whether I’m at the beach or in the city, at the office or working remotely, single or not, with friends or still finding them. I want conviction. I want to feel secure in my choices, and know I’m moving forward with action

What I read: magical realism (especially Japanese), absurdism, nonfiction, and a lot of manga—villainess isekai, I'm beginning with One Piece, and anything that surprises me.

What I value in art: honesty, curiosity, resilience melancholy joy

Tumblr for me is more archive than stage: a place to collect, remember, and sometimes connect. My interactions here have been uplifting, kind, sporadic—and that’s all I hope for.

I dream of being found. By the right editor, the right reader, someone who will love my work as it is. I don’t want to chase; I want to create joyfully.

[sunnyanddumb98]

"My chest fills with heat, like menthol, my arms tingle until I finally take the photo. They are ugly photos, like a mistake, and most people who see them don't pay much attention when they're in my gallery, but I have many of them, and I love them."

[sunnyanddumb98]

I have been writing a book for the last year called Bleeding Butterflies. For the first few months, I wrote only in my spare time, taking forever to write 10,000 words. During that time, I took a trip to location, but mostly from October 2023 to March 2024, I was living my life as usual and taking notes.

Then I committed. For me, commitment needs something to lose, specifically money. So I spent 2,000 USD on an online coaching plan called The Novelry, and I spent the rest of the year until yesterday writing the next 50,000 words.

My day looked like this: waking up at 6:30 AM, training for an hour, having breakfast and a shower, then one hour of writing (I was strict about the length—just one hour, but I missed some days, taking four months instead of three to finish). After that, I worked an eight-hour job, attended The Novelry coaching sessions or workshops during lunch hour, kept working, and then read the book that is part of the writing plan.

I've never been a morning person, and my ADHD makes it hard. Emotional dysregulation was a big issue during this time, and maladaptive daydreaming was all over the place, but I kept my dopamine levels down. No TikTok, no Tumblr, no YouTube, no Instagram. I ate bland meals of raw oats and white rice with chicken—no spices, the only dopamine I allowed was music and writing. I talked with people at work, but I was mediocre at best in everything that wasn't writing for the last few months. I cut contact with most of my friends—all of them new, of course—but I'm not going to lie; I lost friends in the process.

It has been a weird experience because I'm truly exhausted and drained. My eye contact went from optimal to impossible, and sometimes I feel like the main character of the book lives and makes decisions for me as if I adopted that personality. Sometimes I'm triggered because I write a triggering scene, cry in the morning, and spend the whole day super dysregulated without figuring out why.

But also, I'm so excited and so happy. I feel accomplished, and I feel like I can die in peace because I put something, even if not edited, into the world. I have to spend a month without writing the book before editing a second draft, to let it marinate, but I'm so looking forward to the rewrite. I think now that I just finished telling the story, I can finally write it right.

Just on the last page, I figured out what it was about. Most of the time, I felt like I was rambling about my interests using metaphors. But now, I'm sure if I move everything a few centimetres to the left, it's going to be perfect.