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It's simply my way to cope.Karkat was in the midst of cutting. He sliced a wound into his wrist and he watched the blood slowly drip around the edges and fall to the ground. His roommate wasn't home so, he thought it was safe to cut in the bathroom. He heard his roommate open the front door. Fuck, he was in middle of slicing the third cut up his arm. There was a knock on the bathroom door as his roommate complained he had to piss. Fuck his life, his roommate walked in.
Dave pushed the door open glaring at Karkat "Damn it man you know I have to piss everyday after class. I tell you at least sixteen times that I'm gonna blow up if you don't clear a path for me and my giant-... Karkat. Is that blood?" He steeped foward grabbing him by the elbow and lifting his arm up to inspect it. "....What. The. Fuck." He shoved Karkat down on the the toliet seat and reached under the sink pulling out the first aid kit. "How long has this been going on???"
" Fuck, Dave. Just leave me the hell alone. You don't want to know how lon
How to cope with Art BlocksAlmost every single artist has at one point or the other in their life lost motivation, inspiration or even both and without the knowledge of how to deal with what we then call an Art Block, it can take a long time to overcome this lack of artistic drive. A time that might otherwise be used for further improvement and personal artistic growth.
So today I would like to give you a few tips on how to defeat an art block. There is no definite guarantee to either of them, as everybody experiences their blocking differently but maybe you can at least find small suggestions that will eventually help.
Inspiration is literally everywhere, you just need to open your eyes to see it.
We can find inspiration through:
Letting your favourite books, movies, series or games inspire you is always one of the most obvious ways. Fan Art is a good way to retrieve inspiration because most of all y
Tick-TockTick-tock goes the clock.
Minutes are ticking down.
Tick-tock, how it mocks.
The trickster, our bumbling clown.
The clock chimes its very last.
All good men must sometimes die.
Oh how time must move far to fast,
For a man of healing; just trying to say goodbye.
The man lies still, far to still.
He's far to gone to hear their pleas.
Three hearts broken; to shattered to feel.
They all silently watch as he sinks into the sea.
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