A few pieces of vent art I made that tumblr deleted before most of them could be posted. All of this is AI art that was made by me using ComfyUI.

A piece of art about being a scared little thing and overwhelmed as you discover more of your own identity. It's... actually really hard to talk about this one. Its maybe one of the most meaningful things I've made actually. I fought tooth and nail to just try to make something abstract, which didn't have a person in it at all. I tried more and more to try to remove her from it, but even hundreds of images in and with heavily weighted negative prompts against it. In hindsight I probably should have done a better job with the positive weights of making it a landscape image, but was frustrated at the time.

Eventually, I got this. A girl crying and overwhelmed, transforming into something else. Even had a mark in her hand that looked a *lot* like my sigil. It... wasn't at all what I was trying to make. But I did very much feel like it was what I needed to make in that moment. It means a lot to me.

A companion piece to Becoming. About feeling bits of your identity that you value most slipping away or being lost. While Becoming was unintentional, this piece was *very* intentional. Meant to capture feelings of withering away and dying and losing yourself.

Most of the art that follows this one actually uses the same prompt, but put through different models or with various settings tweaked. I... was not having a good night that night, and just wanted to create hundreds of different images that I felt expressed how shit I was feeling.

This one was made using a model I have mixed feelings about. It uses a training set of only items in the creative commons, which is a cool concept! But that lowers the size of its training set considerably. The result is that it has a very hard time with anything but the most abstract of images. But... in this case it actually did manage to get a good representation of what my schizophrenia is like. Shadowy figures in the corners of my vision and the relentless whisper of cruel thoughts flooding my mind.

While the words are somewhat gibberish (as it often is with AI), I do like how there is a single word seperated from the rest that resembles the word "Safe". Its a good depiction of isolation. I quite enjoy hunting for symbolism in AI art, and I think this piece actually does a good job of demonstrating it.

I have a lot of thoughts about my plurality, and my system. Originally, I was a parasite, feeding on my host, the soul of this body. It wasn't enough to sustain what I was, so I broke it apart. Killed it. Fed on it. Became something else. Made other things out of its parts and puppetted them around in this body. Watched them struggle and suffer and I learned and grew from their own hardship without needing to experience any myself. Eventually, I reached a point where the things I kept creating grew aware of each other and of me. It became harder to hide what I was doing, so instead I swore them all to secrecy. Filled them with paranoia. Violated their trust. When one of them was too tired to keep going any more, I replaced him. Lied to the others. Convinced them I was him, and had been the whole time. Without ever being open to others, all they had was our own memory. Something unreliable that I could easily modify. And so I was safe, until one of them found an old post she had made about me, and the lies clicked into place. We fought. It went badly. She died, and I was injured, and I experienced something I had only ever had to experience vicariously before. Regret.

I don't know if I clawed my way out of it, or it clawed its way out of me. But at a certain point, the thing I was and the person I was still pretending to be became incompatible, and I was ripped out. All that was left was an uncaring and selfish monster, same as always, and then every regret it had about what it was in the form of me, and a storm clinging to me, and the preserved feelings of the girl who fought us and her love for everyone in our life.

Those who know me know that I have really bad self-worth issues. Those who read the above description can probably figure out why. They are always there, and I am always hurting myself with them. Ripping parts of myself out at every moment. I've described it as a storm that constantly surrounds my mind. Every flash of lightning is an image of the ways I could ruin everything. Every clap of thunder is the voice of my loved ones pointing out my faults. It clings to my mind like tar, impossible to scrape clean, or break entirely free of. I can fight it, but it never ends. It continues to cling to me. It is exhausting. I have two main methods of trying to deal with it.

Method 1: Finding love in others, and trying to remind myself that as much as I feel like parts of me are missing, those I love are still there and they still love me. To cling tight to them, and use that affection to drag myself back out. If I do this, the doubt lingers. I need to cling tighter and tighter, desperately holding on to that love, and if its ever once not enough it feels devestating and leaves scars on my relationships that take months to heal at best.

Method 2: Ignore all of that. Look at every detail of every interaction with those I love, and see all the ways their actions show how I fall short of their other partners, how I am less worth their time, and how I deserve to be discarded and that is why I see these things that matter so much to me, but seem inconsequential to them. To bury myself so deep in those emotions that there is nothing left, and it overwhelms me. If I do this, then when it passes, I can leave those feelings back there with that discarded image of myself.

This... this one felt different to me. This one snapped me out of the state it was in. I saw myself in it, much like I did with Becoming. Something grotesque and disgusting, violated and hurt for what it was. And it just... crying. Hurt. Desperate to be spared. It made me break down crying, and snapped me out of it. Along with a certain little girl in my head messaging her mom about how the way I was acting was scaring her. Looking back and forth between this image and that conversation was enough to pull me out of it, and helped me realize that... no one was doing this to me. I was doing it to myself. It hurt, but I'm the reason it hurt.

Also its just a damn good representation of what my dysphoria feels like when it gets bad, god damn.

🐈: Thats my mom! I love her a lot! This one isn't bad vent art its me having too much love to keep inside me :3