Tekkit Stream Tonight!
Looking for diamonds and blaring 80’s classics because why the fuck not, Twitch is gonna delete ‘em anyway.
Anonymous asked: Hello! I do not mean to disturb you, but I just wanted to tell you I really enjoy your comic. I have been keeping up with it for a few years now, and it is one that I constantly refer back to and recommend to my friends. I do not mean to be a bother, because I know that these sort of things can be annoying to a webcomic artist, but I was curious to know if you plan to continue the series. Regardless if you do or don't, I just wanted to thank you for the awesome adventure. -T
..Scher, is that you?
Okay, let’s get down to brass tacks.
I need to be bothered. Constantly. I thrive on people giving a shit about me. I am that shitty wilting flower in your house that only comes to life when you remember to water it. Except I don’t smell nice.
Here’s the situation for anyone who cares:
Before I applied for graduate school back in 2013 I felt that interest in my comic was slipping. Not only was the comic more difficult to make with less satisfactory results but it seemed like the more I tried to open rooms and places for people to join and converse and comment on things with me, the more it became evident that in the world of webcomics mine didn’t matter.
Soon after, three major things happened in a relatively short amount of time:
1) I took myself off my depression medication, cold turkey. The pills were nice at first but after almost a year I began to feel nothing except hollow sadness and misery. I couldn’t even feel them properly, there was just the feeling of “why should I keep living” every day. Counseling was becoming outlandishly expensive and unproductive, and my doctor actually told me to buy a cat (which I can’t have in my current living condition). I dropped off the pills gradually until I was off completely and the withdrawals were awful. They made me short tempered, emotional, tired, sick, dizzy and, most noteably, they made me feel tiny little electrical shocks throughout my body that were not controllable or predictable.
2) I lost my first/only best friend to stupid arguments. There is way more to this than I have time to write about or am willing to admit online, but the one person in my life who seemed to be the best for me very quickly became someone I wanted to avoid. The withdrawals from the medication did not help my emotions in this situation. Since then I’ve had no one to confide in, to tell secrets to, to spend lazy afternoons drinking coffee with. At least not in the same way.
3) I failed out of library school in a month and a half. The one thing in life I thought I might be suited for had a generous and painful dose of reality waiting for me. Whether it was because I tried doing it online, or because, in my opinion, the teacher was a complete fucking dickhead, or more likely because I am a moron who cannot figure out how to do my own makeup, let alone write a monstrous ALA paper on why books R gude.
These three blows took more from me than I realized I had. I lost the will to do much of anything except distract myself. I played games, I complained about work, I dreamed about shit, but I let me apartment fall apart, I lost contact with people I cared about, my depression is just a part of me now. It’s like someone kicked me in the stomach and I’ve just been curled up in a corner since afraid that if I got up it might happen again.
So two years later someone on tumblr sends me a message, the one above, and says “where’s the comic?” and I don’t even know what to say. I’ve gotten so used to just sitting here being afraid of failure and rejection and knowing I won’t be able to deal with it properly because my support system, thanks to my own idiocy, has collapsed.
I still think a great deal about the characters. Hell, most of the time I just tell myself how awfully written the whole thing is and how I can’t take anything back. I can’t go back and redo it. So what do I do? Continue with the script I’ve written out, hating the whole thing, or do I scrap the whole project and start something else? There’s no answer. I’m just afraid of everything. I feel like I’ve slipped so far back that there is no return, there will be no progress, no change, just more garbage.
There is a small bit of hope. Now that I’ve accepted my isolation and despondency as just part of the human condition I am SLOWLY trying to reclaim control of my life. Slowly I’m propping myself up in the corner I’ve been cringing to try and give this stupid fucking existence another go. I’ve started cleaning, organizing, planning, writing things down. I’m trying to reach out to people for help, for attention, for input.
So TL;DR, please PLEASE bother me. I need to know people give a shit. About anything that I do. I’ve been told people care about me as a person but frankly, I really enjoy knowing that something I’ve made is something worth continuing.
Thanks for your letter.
I’m gonna say it.
I don’t think The Evil Within is any scarier than Dead Space.