Skelleton, or in some cases Skellevision, a starving artist: Photography, sculpture, poetry.
Flickr | DeviantART | JPG
My Camera Gear
Nikkor 105mm f/2.8G
Nikkor 50mm f/1.4
Rokinon 8m f/3.5
Nikon Speedlight SB-600
This is an art blog, solely run by me, with the intention of inspiring, motivating, and promoting, artists, and art enthusiasts. I give credit where it is due, and I like to link portfolios to my posts whenever possible. If you stumble upon a post without a name and/or portfolio attached it is because I did not know the information at the time. If you can help fix this issue, by all means message me the post link and the artist's name (and portfolio link if obtainable).
Keep touching lives and raping eyes, my little bone bags. ~Skelleton
I hate long hair (on me), because I well and truly believe that short hair looks best on me. Long hair just hides my features. Long hair is the very essence of my childhood scorn. Long hair is the mask I wore for years, trying to be loved, trying to fit in. I was trying to be what society said I needed to be, to be beautiful, to give my father something nice to say about me. I hated myself, growing up I tried to be everything I wasn’t. Whatever anyone needed, or wanted, me to be.. I became. I was an empty shell of a pathetic child, trying to find a balance, between what felt right, and what got me noticed. All the while falling deeper into depression, and further from myself. I had always been on the cusp of popular, and loser. Everyone knew me in some way, and yet didn’t see me at all. This was before I realized, that what looks good on most, doesn’t mean it looks good on me. I was a projection of everyone’s desires, and I was molded to be almost everything, anyone wanted. I picked up things fast, and I had no real identity of my own.
It has taken me years to break the habit of trying to please others. It has taken me the bulk of my life, to have my own life. My outside finally matches, the inside I’ve locked away for so long. I finally allow myself to be myself, and have a self of my own. I look in the mirror and I see a person. I no longer see a statistic, a robot, a rape victim, a forgotten child. I see an attractive, strong, female, that I can bet on. I see a core that isn’t downloaded, and a foundation that isn’t faulty. I see the essence of beauty, and not the formula for redundant, safe, acceptance. I love myself. I love how I look. I can now appreciate how far I’ve come, to be who I am, to look how I look. I wish more people could see that, but I’m not going to let them shake my reflection, I’m not going to hide again, I’m here to stay. Are you?
You can love your body without insulting others. JS. Women come in all shapes and sizes, and if you want to make a change for the better it’s not by insulting skinny women, It’s by accepting the fact that both are beautiful. People like to complain about how society has created an unobtainable image of beauty, and I don’t completely disagree with that, but take responsibility for your own confidence. It is not right to target skinny women, like we are some kind of persecuting cult. We are not the bad guys. If you don’t like the ideals of society, fuck em. I may be skinny but I am not an American ideal for what is beautiful. I am boney, yet curvy (I think an 11 inch different between waist and hip should allow me to say I am not a ruler). I shave my head, I have piercings, gauges, abs. I don’t consult my television every time I get dressed. I don’t base my confidence or beauty on airbrushed celebrities, or even my friends. I could grow my hair out, I could get a tan, I could wear a push up bra and pumps, I could put make up on. I can do all those things, but I don’t want to. I’m 24 years old and when I look in the mirror I can finally smile and feel like the person looking back at me is right as rain, and as attractive as I’ve ever been. I love the way I look, I take pride in the decisions I’ve made, and I don’t expect anyone else to look like me, so don’t tell me I should look like you. Thank you?
Once upon a time, in a small village, there lived a sweet little girl. ☜(⌒▽⌒)☞
Who sang with the most beautiful voice in all of the village. ♪┗ (⌒o⌒ )☞
In the same village an old hag had arrived. (ಠ益ಠ)
Who fancied destroying things she thought to be too pretty, for beauty enraged the old hag.
(╬ ಠ益ಠ) ╯︵ ┻━┻
The sweet little girl was out playing. ヽ(´ー`)人(⌒∇⌒)人(`Д´)ノ
Having the best voice in her village she often would sing for her friends.
And so she did. ヽ(´ー`)人(`Д´)ノ ♪┗ (⌒o⌒ )☞
The mean old hag was out destroying a nearby garden when she heard the most beautiful voice echoing from nearby.
(╬ ಠ益≦) <(I must destroy) said the mean old hag.
And off she ran to find the maker of the most beautiful voice. ε=ε=┌(╬ ಠ益≦)ﾉ
The sweet little girl’s friends saw the mean old hag running towards them and fled.
For the mean old hag was also the ugliest person they had ever seen.
ε=ε=┌(╬ ಠ益≦)ﾉ ε=ε=┌(´～`)ノε=┌(`Д´)ノ
The sweet little girl kept singing not realising what was happening, for she was blind.
(╬ ಠ益≦)ﾉ <(@$^& Stop that beautiful noise at once!) Said the old hag. ♪┗ (⌒o⌒ )☞
☜(⌒▽⌒) <(But I love to sing. I’ll sing a song for you.) Said the sweet little girl.
This had greatly confused the mean old hag, for people always ran from her.
(╬ ・益･) <(You..aren’t afraid of me?) Said the mean old hag.
The sweet little girl giggled and grabbed the mean old hag by the hand.
(But.. I’m terrifyingly ugly.)> (・益･)人(⌒∇⌒) Said the mean old hag.
(・益･)人(⌒∇⌒) <(You are beautiful to me.) Said the sweet little girl.
(T益T)<(No, you are beautiful.. and I was jealous. Please sing me a song.) Wept the not so mean old hag.
(Θ益Θ)人(⌒∇⌒) ┛♪ And so the sweet little girl sang.
Upon singing her second song the sweet little girl’s friends had returned.
Seeing a new side of the old hag the friends decided she wasn’t so ugly after all, and that she was in fact not old.
ヽ(´ー`)人(`Д´)人(Θ益Θ)人(⌒∇⌒) ┛♪ So they all played together and the not so ugly, not so old, not a hag decided to stay in the village with her new friends, and embrace the beauty around her instead of destroying it, for she was actually..not mean.
Every woman is a unique work of art, not a replica. You can’t compare yourself to other women, because you might be a bit abstract and your friends might be neoclassic. Everyone has their own interpretation of art, that’s why It’s so beautiful. Love yourself. You are a beautiful work of art. <3