My Brain is Trying to Kill Me

So I had this great idea for a comic the other day…

I realized that everything in my life was fine. That underneath all my depression & anxiety was a curious, passionate person who actually was quite a fan of life.

In fact, I thought as I walked in the rain without an umbrella, the only problem is my brain. My brain is trying to kill me.

The preferred pastime of my brain seems to be working tirelessly to convince me that everything is terrible, especially me. I don’t really appreciate it, but it’s also the truth of my current situation.

…So then I thought it would be fun to draw a little comic of my brain pointing a gun (or maybe a bazooka) at me. It was a cute idea, until i realized that I don’t know how to draw a brain OR a bazooka.

It sucks when your (lack of) skills interfere with your questionably brilliant ideas.

I mused about what to do for a while, then sat down and drew the comic anyway. And since I already told you what it is, you’re not allowed to say, “What’s that weird blobby thing?”

It’s a brain. It’s supposed to be a brain. With a bazooka.

Untitled design (2)

There is such a thing…

…as a whoops-a-daisy!


It is round, and silly-looking, and its Latin name is Leucanthemum Superbum.

…I think because it’s so superb, but just guessing.

Sometimes I worry that life has no meaning, but then I stumble upon something as superbum as this.

Of course, life still has no inherent meaning built into it, (or so I believe, so it must be true), but sometimes a stack of daisies sitting in a lump can do the trick to brighten a dull day.


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