Jaywise Drawing: Unrequited

Status: The usual heartache.
Music: “Written in the Stars" by Elton John

(Click the image to see it full-sized on DeviantArt.)

So readers, it's been a while.

Some of you may have noticed that of late, the periodic Thinking Jaywise segments have not featured as prominently as they have in the past. Although the anecdotes are somewhat amusing in their random pointlessness, as I have mentioned in earlier blog entries, at this period in time I don't feel like writing them anymore for a few reasons. The main reasons for this decision is that a) I'm not really at a state where I have anything remotely interesting to report, b) just because I think about my ex-partner continuously without fail doesn't mean I should plague Thinking Jaywise with those thoughts on an hourly basis and c) the relatively few times I do mention Keenan's name, people tend to bitch at me afterwards for being a pussy, despite how this is my blogging space and therefore where I am supposedly allowed to speak my mind - and despite how most of those who call me emo are the same people that burst into tears every time their partner leaves the house to go to work, complain about not having enough sexual variety in their lives to compensate for their inability to find any long term satisfaction in anything and anyone or mope constantly about never having any relationship at all, despite their decision to spend most of their time alone in their basement eating Cheetos and playing Vampires: The Masquerade on their PC.
Yes, I know your angsty, trivial problems and no one actually gives a shit. If you're offended, don't dish what you can't swallow.

So now that I have that bitchiness out of the way, here's another blog entry. If you don't like it, don't read it.

I won't lie; most of my conscious hours - which are, admittedly, few and far between - are spent lying awake in bed, running until I tire myself out or bursting periodically into tears.
So I decided I'd take the time to force myself to inject some creativity and productivity into my emotional breakdown for an hour or two.
The above image is what came out.
No, it isn't polished or neat or anatomically correct and I'll no doubt have people who think they have greater tooning talent slandering my illustration, but right now, I don't actually give a shit. It's just a sporadic, unplanned representation of just a fraction of what I happen to be feeling right now - and have been for every second of the last few months. And I think the image says enough without having to be a planned, well-done drawing.
In other words, if you're going to critique what I do or bitch about me not going out there and getting laid to forget all my woes on a temporary basis, you can fucking choke because I am not in the mood.
So there it is, a drawing done just in time to play a painful reminder for what would have been another anniversary. And of course, Valentine's Day.
And a message that says: "Hey, you. I miss you."