Lately I am stuck in a black hole. And it is sucking me in daily.

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I always try to do things

I was so sure that I am going to be an artist. A great one. What I didn’t took into account was how. I am always bragging about how I will learn this and how I will do that but never really accomplishing anything. I try to be consistent but consistency was never my strong suit. I move from one interest to another never really felt attached to one. I draw, illustrate, tried to paint, tried to write, tried to animate, tried to teach. I am no more than a symbol for trying. I never felt like I’ve succeeded in anything.

When I was a kid I drew all of the time. Papers, scratch papers, grade 3 pad, at the back of notebooks, I was so proud then, but nobody was with me. Now they are proud of what I can do but I am the one looking for thing to be proud of. I graduated with a degree in arts, multimedia, but even with my diploma, I never felt like that justified me being something. I am now taking my Masters and still trying to find where I wanna go and what I want to do. Its funny how you know what you’ll be but stuck finding out how to be… you.

Every single day I try to be creative.

What is an artist anyway? What are the standards? What are the requirements? I feel trap, a waste of space. Stuck in a loop of trying to define myself. Let alone give meaning to my life. I work at a university, teaching students to animate and illustrate. I see them improve, and happy with what they accomplished during our classes and I long for that feeling, again. Feeling of excitement and happiness with creating something. Being a part of something good. Nowadays, I feel alone. Always.

Lately I never felt like doing anything at all.

Most days I lay in bed. Tirelessly watching videos on my smartphone hoping to find an answer to what I am experiencing. Quarter life crisis? Depression? Anxiety? I hope to find a solution. To move on from this mess of a life. Interesting enough I do feel like I’m floating on space. No wind to push me. No gravity to hold me. I remain stagnant and trap without meaning. Just like the word artist, I never found what its means to be one.


I know from the outside looking in, It may not be that bad, what my life looks like, feels like. I try to convince myself to look that way too. But my mind never lets me. Im bombarded with ideas that I can never turn into reality and it makes me sad.

Maybe I was never meant to be what I thought I could be. Maybe I’m just an average person who needs an average job to accept an average life. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be great. Maybe not even average.