My earliest memory of drawing dates back to when I was 3, using rocks on pavement to create white lines and pictures from whatever I saw. Following this I was shouted at for playing in the road, promptly scolded and violently punished. This is the kind of treatment I've had to endure for the years of my childhood and some years beyond into my young adulthood, there not being a long enough time where I was demoralized and/or physically harmed for liking what I did (art included, one such occasion involving a painting I rather liked that was displayed for a number of months after I produced it, only to be taken from me and promptly destroyed by my peers when I was to take it home), this often coming from the bullies and people it shouldn't have came from alike. And this continued on for a long, long time.
I joined CA shortly after getting kicked from college for financial reasons, life hitting another rough spot as I was trying to get it started. For the longest time I lurked, but tried to keep up with the discussion if I was able to contribute (thus the, at this time, four year old account with nary any posts). Throughout the years I've been trying to find ways to make ends meet while participating as best I can here and elsewhere, losing friends due to the occasional break down or lapse in stoicism. No matter what, though, I've pushed through the mental and physical pain suffered for a reason that sort of defines who I am, why I'm here, why I draw the things I do, and why I can't give up on myself or others: I've never had things other people have a surplus of; such as talent, supporting family and/or friends, or resources to throw at a problem; and I came from too much of a messed up background to even imagine that everything will be fine forever one day. But...I understand and have always understood that I know where I should be, and where I can't be.