I'm really an amateur artist after one class, but I've picked up new things from studying different people and a little practice. I consider my taste good as I try to fave the best art I see here, but I'll try to create something worthy of that category.
On a side note, please comment my work, as I genuinely desire to improve and to be motivated by the type of input I give to others.
Current Residence: Florida, USA
Favorite music: Linkin Park, Thousand Foot Krutch, Video Game OST
Operating System: Mac OS 10.9
Wallpaper: switches between nature and images based on games
Favorite animated characters: Kakashi Hatake, Avatar Aang
Fleeting Instant/I wake up, put on my face.
Identify with the human race./
X's hand snatched out, grabbing the door knob before Dr. Cain could hobble in. He heard the good doctor let out an indignant noise, but he remained silent and steadfast, keeping the door closed. Dr. Cain pounded on the door, but X's vocal box was still on the desk, and he couldn't reply.
Eventually Dr. Cain finally left, and when X was sure he was gone, carefully went back to the desk. There most of his facial components lay, as well as his voice box. X picked up the synthetic skin that was his face, staring at the deflated lump of stuff.
This is what makes them comfortable. X knew, if he walked out without his humanly appearance, they would become afraid and shun him. Even if he was still the same.
X sighed, but it was just his diaphragm plates pushing on the balloons in his chest to force air up. He had to look like he was breathing, or else he wasn't human enough.
But really, would he ever be human enough?
Anakin's LamentObi Wan senses my lament.
He tells me I am free now, to let go of my anguish of leaving my mother,
and my hatred of the feeling of the sand under my feet.
It's years later now, and Padme looks at me with anxious eyes and asks me,
"Why do you lament so? You have lived as many years free as you had lived as a servant on your homeworld."
But I think to myself- Am I really free or am I just a servant to a different Master?
I tell her I feel the fear and suspicion from my colleagues as I pass them by.
I taste the sand in my teeth again when they address me.
It's years later now, and I stand in front of my old mentor again,
no longer a whole individual, the majority of my body replaced by synthetics,
and filled with anger and lament.
Obi Wan speaks to me-"Why did you leave us Anakin?
To what purpose would you continue to be a slave?
Is the prospect of freedom so overwhelming that you choose to be a slave to your lament?
Let go of your longing for your Mother and the anger of the s