(8/8) But we are not the version they came to know. Not anymore. And we should never feel sorry about that again.

Has anyone wanted you to be someone other than who you truly are?

(7/8)But for others, the new version of us. Our more true self. Can seem like a monster.

This isn't you, they say. Reassuring more themselves than us. Because the image of us as obedient, beautiful, and pure is too precious to lost.

(6/8) Our true selves and so our versions grow with change. At some point, we may be ready to give others more of ourselves than before. To be even closer to who we really are. At some point, we may get tired to pretend.

Most understand this and accept the new version of ourselves.

(5/8) Pretending, perhaps. But once upon a time, it really was one of our versions. Adapted to the world we were in. Our version, that was a layer on our true self.

Was. That's it. Because our versions are not stagnated but ever-changing. We grow and change.

(4/8) That is why we may remain distant to some. May become loved by some. And to some, perhaps long time ago. Perhaps for too long. We may have been something completely different than we truly were. For we wanted so badly to be loved.

(3/8) The versions of us are formed of what we want to give from ourselves to others. From the interpretations that others make of us. It is a balancing act between truth and pretense, our goal being to survive in this great social game of life.

(2/8) There are different versions of us which some may grow to be hated, loved, or something in between. Each version being unique and real to those who know us.

Real, yes. But I wonder if the version they see is the final judgment on us?

(1/8) I once heard someone say wise words, that in reality there is not just one of us. That there are as many versions of us as there are those who have come to know us.

When we think about this, it's true. Others may have distant or negative view from us. To others, we may become so very dear.

The love between us is tarnished. Crumbling. Until, hopefully, it breaks.

It must break. Before it's too late.

(Read the full story from my other socials 🖤)

But even if we, blinded by love, can't see it, that love between us gets tarnished. Every time we are hurt. Because beyond our blindness, there is still this part of ourselves that loves ourselves. Part that knows that in this life, we ​​deserve only the best. Not pain disguised as love.

Hello! I’m about to post the comic later today. I’d appreciate if you’d wait that I post it first/then you repost/share if that’s possible?

Thank you for spotting these details 🐺🖤! I appreciate it!

It’s amazing 🐺💙 thanks for reading my zine!

Thank you so much 💙 I appreciate your kindness! There’s lots of more art of mine, and I’ll post it slowly here too 🖤

Thank you very much 🥺 you’re very kind ❤️