The word “why” has been on my mind a lot today. Why do I have to draw in that faux-cartoony style all the time? Why can’t I just pick one, realism or not? Why does the knee hurt today? Why did I have to wake up? The last one is not so seriously meant, but really, I’m not happy.

Don’t even want to think about how it would have been without the medication. Probably awful. Sure, I’m not even sure what completely happy means any more, but you know, I’ve had bursts of joy and slight happiness — not enough of it, I can admit that. Still had them though. I can extrapolate. I can extrapolate the shit out of them.

World peace and free hugs to everyone, and good will towards all mankind. That’s a huge extrapolation. Still doesn’t remove the why that lingers on even there. Perhaps I’m too negative and I need to take the happiness where I find it. That might be a good advice in some way, except that one can’t control feelings like that and mostly it’s still platitudes from smiling fuckfaces who’s only concern is that my frown impede and threaten their happy sphere.

Here’s a drawing of Clawful, the STD of toys and a wonderful pun.