Shane Dawson - It Gets Worse: A Collection of Essays

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F or those who cant even.

I have a lot of really talented fans. So I thought it would be fun to ask some of them to create pieces of art inspired by the essays. I sent each of them an excerpt and asked him or her to create whatever they felt like, using whatever medium they wanted. Throughout this book you will see a collection of drawings, paintings, balloon art, face painting, and even portraits made out of construction paper. Just like me, the art in this book is all over the place and sometimes shockingly weird. And I wouldnt want it any other way.

It Gets Worse: An Introduction

ALEXANDER T. GIESEN is a seventeen-year-old German-born British painter. His passion for art was first sparked in the eighth grade, after visiting a modern art exhibition. He currently is in his first year doing the International Baccalaureate diploma, where he studies fine art. The themes his paintings mainly illustrate are the problems that humans (especially women) in Western society face; this he shows by doing large-scale portraits with hidden metaphorical messages, often only conveyed through color or form. Follow him on Twitter @_alexrobins.

H i, my name is Shane Dawson, and Im here to tell you that it gets worse. It really does. The problems you have as a kid will seem ridiculous when you get older because bigger and worse problems will come along. But you will learn to deal with them easier as you grow up, or, like me, youll just stop giving a shit. So yes, it gets worse, but you know what gets better? Your tolerance for bullshit.

When I was a kid I remember bad haircuts feeling like the end of the world. I would go into the salon with a picture of NSYNC and ask for the Justin Timberlake. The stylist would look me up and down and then ask me what I thought about the Joey Fatone. As an adult when I get a bad haircut, it doesnt even faze me. You know why? Because Im just happy to have hair in the first place. Every man in my family was bald by age thirty, and I only have three more years to go. I have to enjoy this mane while I got it! I can only pray that in a few years Ill have enough hair to pull off a Joey Fatone. Shit, at that point I would take a Chris Kirkpatrick and not bitch about it.

I also remember how big of a deal it was when someone at school bullied me or called me names. I was called fat, ugly, gay, mommas boy, albino, man tits, and once in a while rape baby. I dont quite understand that one, but then again, I kinda do. Little did I know then that nowadays the first thing that pops up when you Google my name is Shane Dawson is dead. I mean, thats way past an insult. It means thousands of people have typed into their Google browser asking if Im ALIVE. My young self probably couldnt have handled that, but at my age now, I really dont care. Whats the point of getting mad about things when we are all just getting closer to death each day? Or, if youre like me, maybe youre already dead and you just dont know it yet!

In this book you will get to know even more about me than you did in my last book, I Hate Myselfie , mainly because Ive learned so much more about myself since writing it. Ive had my first real heartbreak that shook me to the core. Ive directed my first movie and got panned by critics. One reviewer in particular called my movie something only rapists, racists, and sociopaths could love. Ya, that was rough. But the biggest thing that has happened is that I discovered who I truly am and came out as bisexual. This past year has been a journey of self-discovery and also an attempt at self-love. If theres one thing I learned since my last book, its that I dont hate myselfie. I just have moments of really being annoyed by him, and thats ok.

So sit back, grab a diet soda (Hey, were all gonna die anyways, right?), and enjoy the stories that Im about to tell to you. Just a warning, some of them might offend you and some of them might make you feel sick. But one thing is for sure, all of them will make you realize that even when it gets worse, theres still something to laugh about. And I find that pretty damn comforting.

Shane Dawson

2 a.m.

STACIE GILBERT is a twenty-two-year-old animation major currently finishing up her degree online. Though she is an animation major, her passion is illustration and writing. She currently resides in the town of Lincolnton, North Carolina. You can follow her on Twitter and Instagram, both @Gilstacie, or you can find her at StacieGilbert.com.

I ve always felt different from the other boys in my family. My oldest brother, Jacob, had a different girlfriend every month when we were growing up, and my other brother, Jerid, had posters of supermodels all over his walls. The only poster of a girl I had in my room was of Queen Latifah, and thats because I wanted to BE HER. She was so powerful. So tough. Like a bull. I wasnt the manliest boy, and I definitely stood out in family portraits. My brothers would wear baseball hats and have scraped knees from wrestling in the backyard, and I would have on a tie-dyed shirt with a fanny pack and early-onset arthritis from braiding my mothers hair every day. I was very skilled when it came to a French braid. They used to call me Red Lobster because the fishtails I was serving were ON POINT.

I remember my brother Jerid sitting me down when I was five years old and asking me a question that would be repeated throughout my childhood and into adulthood.

JERID: Shane, can I ask you something?

ME: Is this about the pee in your closet? Because I dont know who did that.

I peed in my family members closets in the middle of the night till I was thirteen. Its actually kind of disturbing, and I should probably look into that. Im sure Im a sociopath.

JERID: No... Are you... gay?

Gay. I didnt even know what that meant. The only time I had heard that word was on TV when someone was using it as an insult. I didnt know what it meant, but I knew I didnt want to be it.

ME: No!

I ran to my room and locked the door. I curled up into my pillow and tried to forget about what had just happened. Luckily before long I heard the two words that could make me forget about anything unpleasant.

MOM: Pizzas here!

When I was in kindergarten I had my first crush, or should I say, first crushes. I walked into school with my hair slicked back and a Ninja Turtles lunch pail that was metal and super heavy. My mom wanted me to have a heavy lunch pail so I could protect myself with it. Even she knew I was a bullys wet dream. With my big, dorky glasses and my forty-year-old bank teller man hair I was just asking to get the shit beaten out of me. I walked into class, and I took a look around. My eyes stopped on what was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my five years of living. She had long blond hair and eyes that were so blue they looked like mirrors facing the sky. Her skin was soft and pale, and her outfit was perfectly color coordinated to keep her from looking even paler. Wait... maybe I am gay? Oh well. I walked up to her and tried to introduce myself, but before I could a boy with spiked, gelled hair and a douchebag face swooped in to steal my thunder.