Silence In a Spoken World

OMG I FINALLY GOT THIS TO UPLOAD!

Now this is not the best freakin pixel thing I've ever done... but its a freakin large art and I suck at large art O.o And I only spent like 4 hours on this O.o

The girl is kinda like me... My ideal hair style. And my favourite green shirt... only it has headphones and the gradient is better.
And I'm not so skinny

Now... for the essay of the entry;;
[Its kinda a mess but I think it gets the point across]

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Speaking digital to me is the only way to speak… I used to yell a lot and scream a lot and put up fights. Over the past five or so years, the years I’ve been online, my mood has turned more sweet than sour. I believe the reason for this change is as such: I’ve learned expression. My art now conveys my mood and emotions, not just boredom. There’s rawness in my drawings now, even if they seem rather bland. Each stroke of my work has a feeling, whether love, hate, anger, passion, lust, greed, envy and especially pain. By drawing how I feel at the time, or how I felt, my anger and frustration escape and I can be free to live a happy life with not feelings of self-consciousness.

Now my art may not be as in depth or as deep as others out there, and I’m sure millions of people’s skills surpass my own, but they represent me in every way. Had I not discovered “vent art”, as some call it, I’m sure I’d be a bottled mess of frustration with emotions ready to burst through me. When I’m pissed at my parents for something stupid, I draw myself. When I’m pissed at life for generally sucking, I draw myself. When I feel lonely, left out, unloved, I draw myself. “Myself” may not be a person… maybe that day I’m an animal, or an object, or an anthromorphic character. But its me in every stroke, in every tear, in every blush and every jeer. It rains on sad days, its cloudy on depressed days, lightning on angry days, sunsets and flowers on happy days.

I used to fight, and I fought a lot. In first grade, I punched a boy in the lip. In seventh grade, I pulled a chair from a kid as he sat down. All my life, I abused my little sister, even my parents. But eighth grade and a new school forced me to reform. Darn Lutheran schools. I wasn’t allowed to express my anger, or my feelings, to anyone. Verbally or physically. Me talking about how I felt was just a waste of air to adults. I had been to a psychiatrist more that once. But eighth grade… Art changed my world. I became peaceful and quieter, more open to others, yet closed at the same time. I no longer needed to yell and force out my expressions but rather they flowed through an extension of my arm. My parents noticed the difference. My new friends however, had always known me as a rather kind person, with a slight temper.

Art. The word is too simple. Digital art. More specific, but too simple. Maybe more like “expression through means of sight”, for people tend to listen more to what they see, rather than what they hear. Or at least… in my case.