When I was a kid, I was a great artist. I could do photorealistic stuffs in crayon. I specialized in body horror; internal organs. I wanted adults to think that I was smart; so, I tried to do anatomical drawings, like from a medical book. It disturbed people, sure— but I was good at it.

I used to make things for my dad. I’ve told the story before. It wasn’t disturbing stuffs like that. Drew him lots of things. That all stopped when he beat the living shit out of me one night. And, then, too, I stopped drawing. I didn’t have the heart to do it.

… and then, I got on anti-anxiety medication two days ago, and, suddenly, I started feeling like a kid again.

My mother calls it ‘dousing’. Like, the urge rises up— and then, the medication stops it. My emotions, kept in check. I am a pot, boiling over. And now, the medication is my lid.

Somebody warned me that it would change my brain chemistry permanently. God, I fucking hoped so. But it didn’t; I’m already starting to learn how to defeat it. How to feel intense, extreme emotions again. But, this time, it’s like holding a sniper rifle after you’ve taken diazepam. With these medicine, I can manage these emotions. I can aim.

Anyways.

I finally remembered what my O.C. looked like. Here she is.

She is, of course, not complete. I have the completed version of her. After all these decades, I finally got to see her face again.

I didn’t particularly want to be Michiru Kagemori. That’s fine. I’m not a furry, but she was close enough, and the model was there. And I didn’t wantt o be ENA; but she was cool, too.

I last saw this woman’s face, when I was drawing her, 31 years ago.

You cannot imagine the feeling.

To see her again.

I’m going to keep this short because, the Internet, as it is, is not a place with nice people in it. Human beings are largely shitheads, and I intend to solely use this nonsense for self-aggrandizement, going forward. It simply is not a place where you can be kind.

And that’s a shame. Because, for the longest, I wanted it to be. I waited 26 long years for it to finally become a place like it used to be, when I was a kid. But I know it’ll never be.

And that’s why I’ll never show you what the completed version of her looks like.

Because humanity ruins everything it touches.

Or at least it tries.

It always fails.