distortion

i keep touching my body to see if it's still there.
my understanding of it is so off it's almost scary.

i doodled this last week in class, while the teacher was telling a folk story about a woman who witnessed her teacher eat a little boy when she was a kid And when she would give birth as an adult

her children got stolen from her right after she had them, by some unnatural presence that would leave her with a dash of blood on her mouth so she would be accused...

folk stories happen in anthropology classes, and while the whole thing hit a very sensative spot, it was still very pleasent.

something i pulled together yesterday instead of listening to class & studying: trying out my crayons in spanish class.