• Member Since 4th Feb, 2012
  • offline last seen Nov 29th, 2017

Sayer


Artist, writer and anything else I can do to slack off from my current projects.

More Blog Posts8

  • 457 weeks
    Still alive, still writing

    I won't write a column here because not too many people read this, so I'll make it short: I've been suffering from a writing block for god knows how long, and I recently started to write again. Here's a little fragment to show you how much I improved after all this time (keep in mind this isn't edited in any way; it's still a draft).

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    0 comments · 428 views
  • 540 weeks
    Another preview

    We spent most of the afternoon in my house playing the newly released Fighting is Magic.

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    0 comments · 544 views
  • 541 weeks
    The Dark Side of the Rainbow

    The crickets played their mysterious symphony as the owls quickly joined them. Both bands played the melody of the night for their princess, directing them like an orchestra director. The moonlight poured through my windows, casting light upon my bedroom. Once again, I found myself unable to sleep; countless times had I woke up in the middle of the night because of my asthma, but this time

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    0 comments · 455 views
  • 543 weeks
    Being an artist doesn't seem to pay off

    Not long ago I worked on a request: a fanfic cover for X-Ray One, in which he asked me to draw this: http://sayer09.deviantart.com/art/Request-Skies-Ablaze-Fanfic-cover-389694297

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    3 comments · 418 views
  • 544 weeks
    Nobody will read this

    I'm 21 and I never kissed a girl.

    I wanted to commit suicide since I was 6 years old.

    I've been bullied so much in my entire life that I never had friends until I entered high school.

    Even then, most of them used me or stole things from me (games, money, comics...).

    I think that my life is so linear that all I ever do is go from Point A to Point B.

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    9 comments · 562 views
Jun
19th
2015

Still alive, still writing · 8:00pm Jun 19th, 2015

I won't write a column here because not too many people read this, so I'll make it short: I've been suffering from a writing block for god knows how long, and I recently started to write again. Here's a little fragment to show you how much I improved after all this time (keep in mind this isn't edited in any way; it's still a draft).

I blinked a few times, trying to recognize my surroundings. A pair of white, washed curtains blocked my view, leaving only an open spot in front of me to stare at. The green, washed away metallic walls gave me a feeling of safety and fear, fear of not understanding where I was, what happened, or who had brought me here.

The bed I was lying on was a bit rusty and barely fit my size, but overall pretty clean; someone had taken good care of it. I glanced upon my now bandaged body, wrapped up like a Christmas present, with the bandages turning red as they proved unable to contain all my blood. My throat was dry and damaged, as if I had swallowed the whole San Palomino Desert. I could barely move my right arm without wincing in pain from what I imagined would be a bone fracture. If I could see my x ray, it would probably show up like a million piece puzzle. The other one was in a better shape, though it was hooked up with a catheter and intra venous. Most people in these situations would simply rip out everything from their body, but I knew better than that. This wasn’t the first time I woke up in a strange room attached to something, nor would it be the last.

Report Sayer · 428 views · Story: One Day in the Wasteland ·
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