Why do you leave me lost for words?

When I despair, the tirade flows so effortlessly.

Yet to capture you, my happiness, seems an almost impossible task.

To enshrine you, to solidify and keep you, like Han Solo in his carbonite casing, seems beyond my grasp. Beyond the capacity of my use of language.

The feeling, though as deep as my customary despair, seems so light and free, so natural as it were, that I can barely trap and contain it.

It flitters past, playing games with me, yet making me smile without my conscious realisation.

Oh Happiness.

Why can’t you be permanently preserved? Encapsulated in my words, to forever be returned to?

I love your feeling. You are a trickster – sneaking away from me, only to return at some unexpected time.

I’m glad you’ve been coming to visit more often.

You and I are closer now, and I know that what we’ve built together will be much harder to lose.

I feel lucky now, I almost feel.. changed forever. And I hope it’s true.

© Michelle De Aizpurua and MissyCartoons 2015




If I could just overpower my inner demons

I would be so free

To not care how many friends,

How many events

To love my self and know my worth

Irrespective of my interactions with the outside

For my inner strength to overpower my outer insecurities

To be free

I ache in my search

the pain is unbearable

Yet I can’t reach

always out of reach


I know what I need

yet it seems impossible to break my nature

constructed as it may be.

Arduous and tormenting activity

What truly matters?

What truly begets happiness and assurance?

How can one alter the inner monologue?

One which has been so meticulously created

and so relentlessly reinforced…

I want to escape

but I don’t know how.

© Michelle De Aizpurua and MissyCartoons 2014


I walked down the street…

Whilst generally my cartoons are (supposed to be) hilarious, life is not always sunshine and candy. So for a bit of a change, here is quite a dark piece of prose I wrote in 2010 whilst living/travelling in NYC…


I walked down the street, only to realize I’d never been there before. So I cried.

I wished I was home instead, and remembered the troubles encompassed. So I cried.

I received a gift, and felt so guilty for the care involved in it’s choosing, that I cried.

I thought first of my friends, and then of how they were gone, and I cried.

I felt frustration and anger for my weakness and tears. So I cried.


And I cried

and I cried

and I cried, until there was nothing left.


Nothing left but tears and pain.


Confusion and nowhere to go.

Don’t recognize this person, don’t want any part of this reality.

Hatred for the hate welling inside, an uncontrollable rage with no obvious base. To escape the escape, the fool that I am.

What a waste.


© Michelle De Aizpurua and MissyCartoons 2013