Fuck You, Hallmark!

It's not even New Years and the goddamn Valentines' Day decorations are out.

I hate feeling bitter, I honestly do. It just gnaws on me like a dog gnaws on a rawhide bone. I'm not bitter at anyone - I'm really not. I just hate how the holidays remind me of how fucking broken I am.

I've had two anxiety attacks in the past week. The three aisles of blood red mementos nearly gave me my third.

All I wanted were light bulbs.

Fuck you, Hallmark. Fuck you, Russell Stover.

Quoted (possibly for Truthiness).

I forgot to mention this a month ago when it happened.

http://comicsworthreading.com/2006/11/30/wizard-staff-shakeup/

Click on the CBR Poster link.

Jeff am s-m-r-t.

.........

Fuck.

Ever figure something out, and find out it's way too late to act?

I never get sick of this.

http://www.sp-studio.de/

Wacky Dream

When you're writing an autobiographical comic, your subconscious tends to dig up stuff you've forgotten. I'm currently working through the High School section.

I had a dream last night (elicited by cold medicine, I'm sure) that reminded me of trust/cooperation exercises from gym class. There was one that needed the entire class to participate. I sat this one out.

Mr. Rovito came over to talk to me, trying to get me involved. "Jeff, what's going on? You don't trust them?"

"Trust those guys? The ones that deliver run-by gut punches in the hallway? The ones that hold me down down in art class and staple my arms? The ones that sprayed shaving cream down my back in study hall? The ones that make me wish I was aborted and boiled off in an acid bath?"

Mr. Rovito looked at me and stammered a little.

"You want me to trust them? It sounds like someone's living in a dream world, and for once, it isn't me."

Exorcising demons is hard.