Dumping a blog written by the OP's artist. (He's a super grimdark homosexual brought up in a chilean family)
I’m tired of this fucking life,
I’m tired of feeling wasted,
I’m tired of everything I’ve been teached too
I’m sick of my fucking childhood, I hate thinking about it, I remember nothing but pain, bullets and dead partners, my parents tried to fix something that was born broken, they tried to wash my brain with the same bullshit as my bros.
Bros. are happy, I’m not, I couldn’t lie anymore, I wasn’t born as a good guy, even though I pretended to, but I can’t take it anymore, my brain is shattered, the two biggest pieces are my old self, the beast I was born like, struggling, my mark… my arm mark, the 75. The other part is the false guy, a weak piece of shit, a mr. nobody, unable to achieve his goals, scared, but he’s dying. The problem is that I’m dying too, this thing… this… fucking pressure, I can’t take this shit
I haven’t draw anything in more than a month and half, I mean good stuff, I always try to draw at least some shitty stuff.
And everything could explode so easily… everything could be easy as fuck and I could feel free, my life could fix itself, I could be able to feel alive once again.
But there it is again, the nightmare, the pressure, not allowed, unable, wait for your turn, you can’t, you’re young, and you can’t enjoy your fucking life because you live with a couple of assholes who wants you to go back to the family creed, a couple of assholes who get mad if I leave to watch a movie, a couple of assholes who thinks I’m a good boy, a poor little good guy
I can’t take this shit any longer, and everything it’s about one single thing I’ll know in a couple of days… weird, my… life… it’s…