
Anxiety Brain strikes again.

Anxiety Brain strikes again.

I want to do right by you. Yes, you.

I’m the very best boyfriend ever.

As my anxiety goes up, my obsessive, repetitive video game playing has a high likelihood of going up.

The most awkward thing about publishing this comic is not that the person I’m talking about will read this and realize the jig is up, it’s worrying that someone who I don’t actually have a beef with will think it’s about them.
Which makes me want to make a follow up comic where I agonize over the text I’m writing here because I’m terrified I’ll offend someone I didn’t mean to.
So … you know … progress.

When I was talking about the comic before I launched it, this is what I intended to use it for: To give myself context. To turn my messy life into a neat and tidy narrative that moved from my childhood to the adult I have become.
But that’s not how life works. Even if it is how biopics work.

Alcohol makes me even dumber.

Eat the eggs, smashmouth.

It’s a great art form written for an audience who has terrible taste.
It’s no wonder two of my favorite things are musicals and comic books.

I feel like such an uncomfortable, wounded kid so much of the time. I can’t tell you what it means to just feel like myself around some of you. And maybe this will give you some insight into why I’m awkward sometimes or why it took a while for us to be close. I’m always working on it and it’s always getting better, but it’s most definitely “a thing.”