This comes to you, depending on who you are, at least from time to time, and it's tiring, heavy, hard
to get through - sometimes passes by quickly, and your strength is back quite soon, sometimes
though, it all lingers, weighs you down, like an emotion long internalized, like a problem long
silenced. Is it all worth it? Will it ever amount to anything - did it, or does it, already? In my
particular case, it's never only a matter of one thing, doubt comes like a wave, making you question
everything you're doing, some topics more highlighted than others, but it's never too precise.
I've been drawing my whole life. I'll probably continue to do so - it's the one thing I can always hold
on to, and the process of creation is always rewarding and soothing, mesmerizing, puts you in a
trance like nothing else. But I look at my art - hell, I look at my intellectual and cultural progress - at
it pains me at times, will the feeling of inadequacy get stronger the more awareness I have of the
richness of my possibilities, or will I find more peace with needing my own pace in life? Do I even
need that pace? I've pushing myself hard these last two, three years, harder than I ever did - harder
than I probably could have, judging by the fact I had to work through some mental issues and have
some idea of what my problems were - but it always, always feels like it's not enough. My art could
be more polished, it could be deeper, have more emotions, more symbolism, with better combination
of colors and composition, and it's all, at those rare times, infuriating, blinds you to what you've
accomplished so far. It's hard to find an outlet for this frustration.
Thus, this bit of writing. Let's raise a glass to those of us who'd never feel like they're good enough
unless they became gods. We're gonna be alright after all.