To paraphrase Kyle “OanCitizen” Kallgren from Brows Held High “I knew this was coming. I tried to ignore this [as much as humanly possible], but I knew this was coming”.
I think I need to bring up something important. A contributing factor to the delays of the art I’ve promised a good chunk of you is due to chronic fatigue and depression. Depression at “What”, you may ask? Well, here’s a good example.
I woke up at 5 PM today. After taking a shower and doing my prayer, I was preparing to go to work on DanielBenner214's) picture...when I noticed the latest page was gone from the desk.
I knew instantly this was the work of my younger brother Dean. This is not the first time this has happened. I angrily confronted him about it, and he threw me back telling me, “You kept me up ALL night!” I told him I couldn’t help it. I’ll explain why later. He snapped back at told me, “YES YOU CAN, you just choose NOT to. You CHOOSE not to be like everyone else, I’ve seen when YOUR kind cannot help it, YOU can.”
I got angry and latched onto that word. “What do you mean, YOUR kind?” I told him. Dean froze. He knew what I was referring to. I think it’s fair to say a good chunk of my watchers (and deviantart for that matter) suffering from SOME form of Autism in one way or anyone (OCArtist, DanielBenner214 and darkmagic287 are ones I know for a fact), myself included. In the past I’ve hated being autistic but now with plenty of training and a chance to chill, I’ve become better from this (it helps that I’ve been told high-end celebrities like Bill Gates and Keanu Reeves suffer the same. Everyone knows Bill Gates, but just know that the guy who plays Neo and John Wick also has autism next time you see the Matrix or the titular film). My brother Dean also suffers Autism, but REFUSES to believe it. My buddy klunk1990 will kindly tell you a couple days ago a “hurricane” was blowing in my house and I refused to elaborate on why. Well I will now. My brother and my mom were having a huge argument. It was about Dean’s autism, and that was a sore spot for Dean, who believed Autistic People and kids with Down Syndrome were one and the same. Apparently Dean made a comment about one day “curing” autism that got his teachers in an emotional knot and had to be sent home. Dean did not take this well. In the past Dean has called me a Mutant Retarded Freak and will damn me to Hell as if he was God himself, and mom says if this ever happens again, she will punish him for this. Needless to say, after this little display, Dean’s not going to be with friends or on the computer for a good chunk of the week.
Dean knew this and tried to cover it, knowing I set him up. He told me Mom told him never to call me what he was going to call me before getting back to the topic at hand. After ranting about everything and nothing, Dean told me:
“You are NEVER going to have a future. Ever. All you do is be in your room to avoid the real world, drawing shit artwork that NOBODY likes, you can’t draw worth SHIT, nobody likes you, not mom, not God, and all those people you keep talking about (he tries remembering them) Addison, John (pause) Danny (pause), that hideous girl I saw on your screen once (I’m not sure if he’s referring to k-Liight or INGIJB but if he’s referring to either, just know I do NOT condone this and this makes me very, VERY angry that he said this, ESPECIALLY at how much you guys have helped or, or in INGIJB’s case, how much she’s suffered) Addison and John are a bunch of skinny as balls losers, untalented hacks. Addison doesn’t even DESERVE to go to TCHS like me if he’s gonna spend all his time working as a fucking errand boy (Addison, or OCArtist, knows for a fact Dean does not look like a nice person as they both went to TCHS at some point, albeit in different branches. Needless to say Addison, if you ever read this, hopefully this will only cement this notion.)
I held my ground, not wanting to give in to Dean even though I was still on the floor and Dean was standing up tall, arms crossed and chest puffed out, and told him that I would tell mom. He said he knew and did not care.
So I tried calling mom. No answer. No text. No email. She was far away doing God Knows What. Usually it would be her job but she has confessed to leaving the house just to get away from Dean.
This is helped because at one point Dean had a dog named Andre who he “loved” dearly...except he never cleaned up after him or groomed him or even FED him, that was always me or mom. Because of this, hair would repeatedly build up all over the apartment we had at the time...and then our landlord came in and told us if we don’t get rid of Andre (because the apartment did NOT allow pets and mom had Andre behind the landlord’s back for the sake of Dean) he will kick us out. When Dean heard this, a massive argument ensued cultivating in Dean roaring like the Incredible Hulk, RAMMING mom into the far end of a hallway and employing a combination of hitting and strangling her, all with a face of a rabid wolf...almost like my father. Mom of course tried calling the Police and in an act of “boldness”, Dean tried making a break for it before the cops showed up. This failed miserably and either fortunately or unfortunately, Dean was not put in jail or in a crisis center despite having every reason to be (according to mom, anyway. I don’t know anything about the law, so don’t quote me on this).
But with all this, it should come as NO surprise mom did not want to answer me the same way a victim of abuse will try to defend their dominant other, or at least that’s what flew in my head at the time (once again, she could have been at her job and didn’t want to answer so she doesn’t lose her job. I’ll let you know what the reason was whenever this comes up).
Getting back to the Present, after Dean came back to take his third melatonin, he comes to me sitting on my chair trying furiously to type to my mom or call her and mocks me, after which he tells me.
“You know what your problem is, Moh? You need structure, you can’t expect to get anywhere writing shitty comic books. Look at me, I’ve got friends, I got money in the bank, I got a life.
YOU need to see more people, you need to go to bed on time, you need to get a job, you need to be like ME. You need to be like everyone else.”
There are so many things I could comment on this, as well as several hypocritical statements that sentence holds, but I won’t because I won’t slander Dean’s name on the internet unless it pertains to the situation at hand (I’d like to think I’m not THAT petty), and instead focus on the part Dean made important: Getting a Job.
Problem is, I HAD a job. Most of you KNOW this. I had a job working at a bookstore to scrap together funds for the computer that broke during the summer that put a damper on Project00Wolfen’s art. I spend days in the summer rearranging shelves, cleaning tables, unloading inventory, checking out people, listening to kids scream and yell and not shut up, hearing customer’s stupid complaints over the phone and being unable to do anything that by the time I had the money, as well as getting some help from John and my mom and several other people outside, I threw in the towel, sent my letter of resignation and left. I slept for 13 days after that according to my mom. 13. Can you imagine? I know for a fact Addison can work a job fine despite being skinnier than me, so how he does it is beyond me (though in hindsight, maybe his job has air conditioning as mine had the misfortune of having its AC break in 93 degree Summer of last year or two years ago, I don’t know anymore).
As I write this Dean just took his fifth melatonin sleeping pill and is now singing a song from RWBY (I believe it’s this one, I don’t know. I’m not a fan of RWBY, that’s more OCArtist’s forte, not mine) while muttering/screaming homophobic and racial epithets, if that’s even possible to do (moron... you are...hermaphrodite...small and helpless...jungle-monkey...bitch...they should throw you into the pit of Hell...Nigger...faggot... idiot...just a child...I CAN’T HAVE A LIFE BECAUSE OF HIM...Cocksucker...master race...stronger...WHY WERE YOU EVEN CREATED...retard...Prepare...to die…). My memory isn’t very good and Dean has a high-end fan to cancel out noise (and yet he chastises me for making noise despite there being no way in Hell he should hear an air horn with something like this).
So, now, if you’ve skipped a good chunk of this, here’s the point of it all.
I cannot deal with this anymore. I cannot deal with Dean constantly insulting me and telling me how worthless I am, and how I can only work on stuff when he is asleep or not in the picture (in school, for instance), I cannot live in this household anymore, in the environment, it’s too much of a prison than an actual HOME (assuming you’ve seen the videos I’ve posted). I REFUSE to get a job after the backbreaking and exhausting experience I had, which only fuels my chronic fatigue that, to this day, is still around (making my doctors think I overworked myself to the porn of being anemic), and I refuse to make any more art without having any money in the bank. Not because I’m greedy, but because I NEED TO ESCAPE FROM THIS PLACE.
My own mother, who has been on and off about my dreams of becoming an artist, even states that I should STOP handing out freebies. The ONLY reason she never minds anything about John or Addison is because (ostensibly) I’m gonna get a cut of their work for doing the art.
I’m sorry Daniel, and I’m sorry Sakuraofchaos, but when it comes to this, I cannot FUCKING DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE. If he’s just going to rip up or throw away my art that I was working SO hard on, I’m just going to be like a disgruntled comic editor, throw my hands in the air and say “SCREW this, I don’t care anymore.” ESPECIALLY if I don’t get any pay for this.
Effective immediately, I am suspending all requests and art trades until future notice, and focusing on commissions to get me out. I refuse to purge my account a THIRD time and start over, I’m gonna man up and say it to your face, and I hope you understand. I don’t think you live with a brother or family member like this, so hopefully what I say at least resonants with you SOMEwhat. If not, go away. This is FAR too important.
Just writing this bull has made me tired. I have to go to bed. Hell, even Dean just came to me and threatened to throw away the computer I worked the entire summer to get if I don’t got to bed right now (It’s 6:32, an hour after I woke up before.)
Hopefully you will all understand. Tomorrow I will post up the commission prices or something, I dunno.