Spellbound
The term “favourite person” comes from the BPD community, though I think it is something that anyone with a great deal of adversary and isolation in their life can experience. I have met women in autism circles who have/are grieving a favourite person, and some of my favourite songs- “Just Like A Pill” (P!ink), “Space Bound” (Eminem), “Bring Me To Life” (Evanescence), “Innocence” (Avril Lavigne), “Pokarekare Ana” (Hayley Westenra) to name a few- remind me of this kind of relationship. Our favourite person can be anyone: a friend, a therapist, a teacher, our partner, or somebody we just met. It might seem harmless and sweet when somebody says that you are their favourite person. But with BPD, this is far from innocent. This is a serious and dangerous dependency. We project all our deepest longings onto our favourite person. They become our personal saviour, but in the blink of an eye they will become our crucifix. This zine is a collection of 27 colour drawings, told from the perspective of a penguin madly in love.
Little Black Riding Hood
A short story about depression and cunning wolves. This tiny zine measures 5.5 x 7.5cm.
Child of Satan
This mini zine (5.5 x 7.5cm) is a joint collaboration between my adult and child self. It is about growing up the scapegoat.
Marion
The zine is 28 pages long and is a collection of poems.
Trapped in a dream
This is a short zine about being stuck in a dream or another “realm”. It is a very bizarre and frightening experience. I’ve never met anyone who’s had this experience except for a few people on straightdope.com
The zine includes some of my ghost photography where I try to capture the feeling of no feeling at all- not being able to touch anything or reach anyone.
Trigger warning: self harm.
Dying to die
This zine is about my experiences with depression and suicidal urges, touching on the factors that have driven me to this point.
Down the rabbit hole
This is a 31-page zine I made while in hospital in March 2019. I made it using some articles and stuff I had already printed, plus newspapers and brochures from the hospital. I cut them secretly on the floor of my room behind my bed with the nail scissors I had smuggled in, something which the hospital usually confiscates so you can’t hurt yourself with them. I was deeply troubled by the state of the world. I felt persecuted and violated by the world, which the doctor called “psychosis”.. I hope you enjoy my artwork/reflections about reality/fantasy, despair, consumerism, trauma and the scars of capitalist society.
zonkyzoe 