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Alfred Kubin (1877–1959), “Einsames Haus” (Lonely House)
pen and ink, wash, and spray, 1941
source
when I was younger I'd get upset and I would run to my room and cry, I was always hoping someone would come in to ask if I was okay, and I'm still desperately clinging to the idea that someday, somebody will come when I'm crying.
what's so bad about it
i refuse to date someone until i can love them more than my own isolation
thinking of a yandere! creator and his dolly darling.
you were his most beloved. he carved you from nothing to be his most favoured, and then blew life into you with a wishful kiss. after endless nights spent awake you were finally able to open your eyes, and he practically collapsed into your arms the moment you gave him a smile.
he was content to wallow in a circle of self isolation accompanied by you. to you, the only purpose behind your existence held was to be his, to wrap your fingers made of wood around the flesh of his own. he had shaped you to feel blessed by the idea, and to see him as a salvation.
"you're so pretty, doll..." he'd whisper, wrapping his arms around your waist as his breath hit your ear. the feeling of such warmth sent shivers through your spine, and you could feel his lips upturn into a grin. "the prettiest i could ever imagine. you'll forever be mine, say it."