
Pretty Is Always The Default
This is a comic I did to illustrate the creation of what I think is the drawing tool that better expresses my relationship with my body. When I drew myself for the first time, my first instinct was to draw a pretty girl with a slender, symmetric figure, just like I had my entire life. I’ve never even seen art that portrayed an imperfect female body, and felt angry that now I had to learn how to trace my messed up body that would completely ruin the piece I had in mind with it

My Not So Patient Waiting
So, about romance and disabilities. Well meaning friends will always tell me it can totally happen, look how many disabled people we see being happily married and whatnot, and I see that, but I honestly don't see any signs of it happening for me, despite my relentless search everywhere - and I mean EVERYWHERE - I go, to the point where it's as ridiculous as this very empirical comic that I drew back when I was still straight. I'm sort of waiting for it to fall off the sky: li

Circle Of (A Depressed) Life
Loneliness can feel a lot like an infection. I drew this as my actual sleeping routine but later realized it speaks to a bigger pattern in my life, where I'm always waiting for it to begin. I try to fight the pain with hope that life is unpredictable. Maybe something completely unexpected will reveal itself, maybe I'll get a text at 2 am just before I go to sleep, that says "hey, I dig you, lets talk about our feelings and fall in love". Maybe I'll be happy. But I'm stuck in

Mouthless Child
For 21 years of my life, I didn't have a caretaker. I am completely dependent on another, and for 21 years that another was my mom. Affording a caretaker is indeed a financial struggle, but it wasn't impossible for my family. The real reason why we took so long to find one, is one that I think many disabled people might relate to: as someone who never outgrew the childhood need for basic care, I was often interpreted as a half human being with no real need for independence or

People Demand An Explanation, And It's Better Be Paralysis
This is a story of how complete strangers manage to kill my mojo. I'm often described as naive by my more cynical friends. I think the world is just one big playground filled with beautiful human beings capable of amazing acts of love. And then a person walks to me, needing to know what I have. "Is it paralysis? It looks like paralysis". "No it is not paralysis". Keep walking, next chapter. Some people, if not most, take that extra step on rudeness and ask my mom what I have,