Par for the course
Draw fanart of wildly varying quality: get hundreds to perhaps thousands of views and favorites.
Draw something original whilst putting one’s heart into it: crickets chirp. A dog barks somewhere. Tumbleweeds roll by.
One day I'll get around to writing a proper description. For now, just know that I tend to read more than I write, and that my thoughts are rattling around in my head with oft nowhere to go.
Draw fanart of wildly varying quality: get hundreds to perhaps thousands of views and favorites.
Draw something original whilst putting one’s heart into it: crickets chirp. A dog barks somewhere. Tumbleweeds roll by.
Hunger gnaws at my stomach, climbs into my throat, leaving me feeling queasy.
There’s a parallel experience of lightheadedness and inability to concentrate as a pained gurgle erupts from my gut.
Thoughts are fleeting, and my focus draws upon more primal, basic needs.
Christ, I could certainly use something to eat.
Tonight was the first time this year in which I had seen a June bug. Being June, I suppose that’s quite apt.
It was slowly crawling along the concrete walkway leading up to the back entrance of the office building at which I work; its reddish-brown carapace was glossy, lustrous as it reflected the local landscaping lighting.
The color of dried, polished blood.
This insect, so small, giving me pause on my way to work.
Or rather, perhaps I’m far too simple and am distracted by shiny things.