Execution

I submit myself to two hours of self-degradation and crappy memories while drawing this. It's not what I set out to do.. it's that this picture is a result of picking up the pencil and putting it to the paper while my brain was torturing me. Even though I haven't colored it, it feels finished... being unfinished.

I'm sure there's some flaky symbolism there.



PS: to answer some the most common "criticisms" of this picture dealing with the hinges being on the "wrong" side of the trap door, all I can say is, "NO. You fool."

The hinges are most certainly not on the wrong side of the door. They are precisely where they should be. This is an autobiographical piece. That means it's about ME, if you were confused. Sometimes I think that I simply can't die. Whatever forces and higher powers are out there have decided that I am fit to suffer in prolonged agony.

That said.. the trap door will never open. It will never complete its one purpose in life. Instead, I will be left to stand there, further insulted and dehumanized by the idiotic mob who want only to see me perish.


Take THAT, you know-it-alls.