Even in solitude, I still have a hard time finding a proper answer to what I think and feel

The days pass and so far, I still find myself lost. Once again I doubt, about my life and who I am, because I look upon the things I've done so far, and find nothing. I'm not even sure how to feel about art as a whole, I still struggle to find anything that makes me like it, or appreciate the things that most people find. I really try to see others' perspectives yet, I can't say to myself: "Yes, this is good, I'm a good artist, I can do art"

And the more I think of it, the more of a fraud I appear to me at times. maybe it's my depression, maybe it's overcomparing myself to anyone else... whichever it may be, I certainly can't make my peace with it just yet. It sometimes makes me feel sadness and anger, and this alone has been bad enough to ocassionally bring up suicidal thoughts every now and then, because if I cannot make art at all myself, then what else am I? What else there is to my life?

Why does my art always look so boring, why does it look so bland and generic? How come everyone else's pieces always look far better than mine in my eyes? Why I no longer get any satisfaction into the one hobby I've been doing since I was a child? And if all of this is true, then... what am I? Just who the hell am I, without art?

A nobody, someone replacable, someone whose mark will never be remembered, a naive idiot perhaps...
Someone that people can look upon, not as an example on "what to be", but for "what not to be"
Throughout the day, there are moments where I don't feel affected by this, and later that same day, I find myself questioning my very existance for the lack of substance I am as a person, and again, not only applies to my "poor-excuse-of-an-artist" side, but on a personal side too.

Does this make me a bad person? Does this make my life useless? Do the people that see me as a friend even see me as such? Will I even be remembered if I die? What will be the one thing associate to my name if I'm gone?

Or perhaps it'll be just nothingness, as it was said to me for most of my life:
-You do not matter, stop making it about yourself
-Why do you think anyone cares about you?
-You never like anything, you're so boring
-Why aren't you like normal people?

I can't help but think back on these phrases I got told so many times in the past, and maybe they were right this whole time. Maybe I should've kept to myself all these years, never once had opened my mouth or tried to socialize. Maybe that way nobody would've had to deal with me in their lives, not even my close friends would've had to bother themselves with a waste like me, because that's what I ultimately am: trash, boring, repetitive, frustrating, replaceable, disposable and a dissapointment.

I can only wonder now, what it would've been for everyone, if I had never existed, or never had met me. Would their lives had been better?

Likely... very likely