I'm Avendah Zickterman. Sometimes, I doodle. Most of these doodle pieces are inspired by OCD flare-ups. All work is mine unless stated otherwise. The format is weird because I maintain this site using my phone.

Please forgive me. I am only human, and this is my first life.

Acrostic I

My mind hungers for the impossible - false perfidiousness.

Oppressed soul is divided into frames - deviation.

Remembering thoughts and feelings inaccurately - shame.

Aversion to mistakes, especially the unintentional - anguish.

Listening to poisonous messages - confusion.

I seek understanding and to be understood - empathy.

Tears permeate in crimson sand - suffering and “how much [I] hurt as a human being.”

Yet, my heart abhors my own success - unbelieving.

Obsessed with repentance - deserving.

Clarity to acknowledge what I do deserve - forgiveness for myself.

Despite the lies I tell myself, I know the truth - vehemently.

Shneidman, E. (1999). The psychological pain assessment scale. The American Association of Suicidology. https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/j.1943-278X.1999.tb00524.x

I thought that I needed to fit inside of society's bubble to un-relentlessly exist - to be seen, heard, and understood. As young as five years old, I realized that this was a fool's dream. It's not society's job to "see me." It is not the world's task to "hear me." It is not my calling to be understood by all. When I travel into the spaces of unknown possibilities and unnamed people, my only calling is to shine as I am. To love as I am. To see, hear, understand, and defend myself.

There was no onyx sketched in my soul. I was a clean slate with endless opportunities. Still, I was burdened by a forgotten cloud hanging tirelessly over my head. There I was, being me. Experiencing and existing. Without a soulful guide and evidence of kindness and empathy, I faltered. I fell to my knees, solidifying every label, statistic, stereotype, and judgment into the layers on my skin. A scar - a painful memory, etched into every fold of my physical vessel. And if I shouldn't be seen, I should be invisible. Blending into soft maroons, coppers, and golds, I was safe in my solitude.

The only cloud I wanted to mold was the one drifting softly over my brightness - immune to oppression, fear, and anguish. I found my brilliance within that emptiness with only myself to guide me.

lily & lime

Self-Portrait 2

“People want you to conform to societal and social expectations to compensate for their discomfort.” (B. Sam, 2023).

We aren't born thinking that something is "wrong" with us.

No. The world teaches us that.

Self-Portrait

A difficult time in my life.

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