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If You’re Disabled & You Know It, Clap Your Hands

Here’s something you may not know about me. I’m really fucking insecure.

I’m not insecure enough to admit that I’m insecure, at least, but I’m really fucking insecure otherwise, yeah. I get jealous when my girlfriend talks to other, much prettier, and honestly much more interesting, girls than myself, and I constantly worry that the people I do allow myself to consider my friends aren’t really my friends and are only there out of pity. I guess this is the result of people hurting you your entire life. This is what you become, if you’re me anyway, and also really weak. I really don’t like this facet of myself, it causes me, and others, a great deal of pain, but here’s the thing…

…I can’t really stop it. Not in full. And I know what you’re saying, you’re saying “well now, that’s not very constructive of you! you gotta think positively! believe you can change and you can! all it takes is effort!” and you’re not wrong, buddy, but it’s not exactly that I lack conviction, goodness knows I’ve kept up with projects for years and for the last few years in particular I’ve been working on bettering myself in numerous ways, and I think I’ve done fairly well, thank you very much. But no, it’s not that I lack conviction. It’s that I lack literal brain power to do so. See, when I was born, my umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck, and I didn’t breath for the first few moments of my life. This led to some brain damage, and I literally am incapable of learning certain things, knowing how to do certain simple things, and in some cases, bettering things.

And I know that this sounds like an excuse, but it isn’t. I’ve got a lifetime of experience to be able to prove how sincere I’m being about this situation. But what hurts even more than this reality is the fact that people do not take disabilities they cannot see seriously. I was on a bus last year and an older woman came onto the bus. I was sitting on the front bus seats, because it was cramped elsewhere and I was carrying a lot of bags (I believe I was bringing groceries home) and my back was killing me. When she didn’t have a place to sit, because the front was all filled up, I could feel people judging me silently. This isn’t fair. My father pushed me down the stairs as a little girl, and my back has never been the same since. I have been to chiropractors all my life. Sometimes my back gets so tweaked that I have to literally lay in bed for two or three days so that I can resume my life. I am disabled. Just because I am 30 doesn’t make me any less disabled. It doesn’t fucking go away with time. If anything, it gets WORSE.

Same thing with my brain. My brain and my back are damaged, and yet people continue to ignore these facts. Lots of people ignore them because they cannot see them, and that’s, while shitty, at least understandable. But what irks me most are the people I trust, the people I love, who cannot accept it, or refuse to, or DON’T BELIEVE ME. That shit hurts. Genuinely hurts. I am so sick of having everyone around me think I’m okay since I appear moderately functional. I don’t sit in a wheelchair and I can think rather soundly about a lot of things, and this apparently gives society carte blanche to feel that, just because I lack things they consider to be associated with disabilities, that I am not disabled. I AM. In more ways than one.

I am so tired of being judged by society for things I didn’t cause, that aren’t my fault, and that I cannot fix.

Yes, it’s manageable, but that doesn’t make it fixable. I wish people would learn this.

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I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I’ve done, like my 2015 novel “You Ruined Everything”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my feed over at Ello. You can also find epubs/books/stickers/prints over at my Payhip , or support my work monthly at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Close To Monsters #62

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This weeks comic is brought to you by that universal feeling of emptiness.

If you like this comic and wanna read next weeks right now, subscribe to my Patreon for as low as a dollar a month!

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon!  Visit My Online Store!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I’ve done, like my 2015 novel “You Ruined Everything”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my feed over at Ello. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip , buy prints/stickers and more at my online store on Big Cartel, or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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SAD PAINTING: “No”

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I have decided to do a series of SAD PAINTINGS. Each painting will be a lovely background with a big, awful word across it. These are the only ones in existence, so if you want to buy them before they’re unavailable, be sure to do so. You can buy this one right here.

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon!  Visit My Online Store!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I’ve done, like my 2015 novel “You Ruined Everything”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my feed over at Ello. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip , buy prints/stickers and more at my online store on Big Cartel, or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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I Am So Tired Of You All

I have never been an extroverted person.

Now I’m somehow even less of one. Honestly, at this point, even just the mere thought of interacting with another human being, especially after how they’ve treated me this past year, makes me sick to my stomach. I no longer wish to get to know anyone. I don’t care what their hobbies or interests are, what their thoughts on anything might be, what foods they may enjoy, or anything of the sort. I do not care. I could not care less. I just want to be left the hell alone. I am so goddamned angry at the entire world now that I would be 100% perfectly fine being alone for the remainder of my life, or just living it out with only my girlfriend at my side.

People are liars. People are unreliable. People are manipulative. Even if they don’t mean to be these things, they are, and they’re often so embarrassed for being them that they take it personally when you bring it up, so they’ll defend themselves for the shitty actions, and really there’s no reason to have that or any other conversation. I know. I know this must make me sound like a cold, heartless bitch, but you have to understand where I’m coming from. 97% of the people I have dealt with throughout my life, including people I thought I was extremely close to and considered important to me, hurt me in some way or another, including people this year who I thought would never turn on me. And I know, I know, it’s “unhealthy” to still feel this way and to write people off as a whole because just a large amount have been bad to me, but consider this.

I don’t care.

I’m not trying to be rude. I just…I don’t have the ability to care anymore, literally. I have become so depressed, so deeply sick, that I no longer care about anything; about myself, about my health, about anything around me, about my work, about the lack of interest in my work, about my ‘friendships’, etc. It’s not like I don’t want to care. I literally cannot care. I am exhausted and overworked and completely used up. I really…I just hate people so, so very much. These days, I keep my headphones on, sit in my bed all day and try not to sob the entire time. I try to interact with the world surrounding me as little as possible, and a lot of that is because how other people have treated me, especially within the past year.

I want to be better. Deep inside I do, I can feel it, I can feel that itching to be a better, healthier person; someone who isn’t held back by their trauma and is instead working to move forward and get better. I thought I was becoming that person. But no. Instead I’m going to end the year that was supposed to be a step forward as 14 steps backwards. I wanted so badly to make progress, but that just isn’t something I can achieve. I’ve come to accept that. These days, I’m mad at the fact that I even have to wake up, because it means dealing with everything for another miserable 24 hours, and that’s horrid enough of a thought. I thought that perhaps sharing my feelings here may help, but nobody ever interacts, just like with my work, and so I don’t really have anyone. I’m not even “over it all”. I’m just too damn tired to be over it all. I’d LOVE to be over it all, but I can’t even muster the enthusiasm for that.

That’s the thing about being hurt for so long by so many people…it exhausts you to the point where recovery isn’t even a viable option anymore. Now I just exist. I try and get through each day without crying too much and ignoring as many people around me as possible. If I don’t have to talk to anyone and don’t cry too much, I consider that a successful day. That’s where I’m at. I’m sorry to sound like such a bitch. I’m just too tired to even make this entire post sound coherent. I’m just so fucking tired.

So very fucking tired.

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I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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All My Friends Are Broken People

I didn’t mean for this to happen, but it occurred to me the other day that every single person I’m friends with is broken in some way or another.

I am friends with people who had abusive parents, who were in abusive relationships, who have severe depression, anxiety, trauma, PSTD, you name it. Now, obviously, with this generation, this isn’t so surprising. We’re all pretty fucked up, and unlike previous generations, we’re actually admitting it, and, again unlike previous generations, a lot of us are actually actively working on getting better. But this is different. I seek out broken people. I find the most broken people that I can and I take them under my wing, and I make sure they know they have someone who cares about them and is always available to talk if they need someone.

The way I see it, these are the people who are most likely to understand or appreciate me. But I often forget you cannot understand or appreciate someone for their problems unless you yourself face those same problems. They can have a vague, general understanding, but unless they were in my head, dealing with my psychological time displacement and horrible thoughts of self pain and hatred, they won’t ever really get me. But, while we may not be able to truly understand one another, we at least attempt. We embrace. We do not turn away. I am looking to help people not feel so alone, because I’ve been so alone, and it is awful.

But this goes beyond all that. I’ve covered that before. I’ve talked at length about how I seek out people to befriend so they don’t have to feel as lonely as I’ve felt. That’s boring, familiar territory, and I don’t want to tread it yet again. That’s why I say this goes beyond all that, because to me, broken people, really broken people, are the most normal of us all. We recognize our weaknesses instead of denying them, even if said weaknesses are what’s keeping us broken, and we are ecstatic when good things come our way because they so rarely do. We are the most in tune with ourselves, our emotions, and everything. We are the most human of the humans that I have ever known.

I am not saying this to say one type of person is better than another. Please don’t try and think that’s what I’m getting at here, because it’s not. All I’m saying is that it is nice to have people like myself. Broken people. Because we admit we’re broken, and too many don’t, and if only more would, they may be able to change what they don’t like and really focus on getting to be the best them they could be. They’re so scared of admitting defeat or showing signs of weakness, that they hide behind this ever present perpetual myth of “everything is fine” with a laugh and a smile and selfie, and yet if they could just be broken, admit they’re broken, in some way or some form for a little bit of time, they may just like who they could really be.

Maybe I’m wrong. It’s possible. I can be wrong about all kinds of stuff. But what I’m saying is there’s no shame in your brokenness, in your weakness, in your sadness. There is no shame in you.

You are broken.

You are beautiful.

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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So Utterly “Tragic”

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This isn’t a fun comic. I am in so much fucking pain. There’s no joke here.

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Depression Cares #1

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written/drawn by Maggie Taylor

It’s shocking sometimes how what makes you want to kill you can also feel like the only thing that really understands how you feel, even if it’s selfishly doing so to preserve its own existence. This illness is a parasite, and we are the host.

Buy My Book!                Support Me Via Patreon!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!