FERAL_FRENZY
Legionnaire <3
- Apr 18, 2024
- 76
This is my first time posting on this site. I'm not great with words, so bear with me.
I can't draw anymore. No matter how hard I try, my art never comes out the way I want it to. When I first started out, I was on the right track. I understood that the process would take time and a shitton of practice, and I was willing to see it through. I enjoyed drawing for drawing's sake, and it was one of my main coping mechanisms for the avalanche of problems I faced in my childhood. I devoted myself to the craft, and every day after returning home from school, I'd spend hours cooped up in my room, mindlessly doodling to my heart's content. Those were some of the happiest and most memorable days of my life.
But as the years flew by, it became increasingly difficult to create anything. The decline of my mental state has finally caught up to me, and I feel like I've regressed. I once believed that I could double down on my craft and, in spite of my issues, still manage to produce the same quality of work as I always did. But, in the eyes of my perfectionism, all my efforts were for nothing, and I'm back to square one. I have no motivation or drive left to bother giving a shit about practicing, and the passion is quickly dying out. I feel lazy and sluggish whenever I pick up a pencil, and I hate myself for it. I know that I should try harder, that I should be willing to bite the bullet and just tough it out in the name of my passion, but I just can't bring myself to do so. I'm starting to think that maybe I'm not cut out for the art world, and that thought brings me to tears. I'm not academically gifted. I suck at math, my creative writing is subpar at best, and I have the memory of a damn goldfish. I feel like a useless shell of a human being.
The thought of pursuing a non-art-related career makes me sick to my stomach. I see no point in working in a field that brings you no joy, as you're simply reduced to a robot that's mindlessly going through the motions. That way of living sounds fucking MISERABLE. There's definitely more to a job than simply making ends meet. I desperately want to be at the same level as my fellow artists, and I hate that my brain can't understand art the way it used to. I'm just this lazy, sluggish, stupid thing that can't even draw an arm right. If I can't draw, then I have amounted to nothing, and I'm better off dying than being stuck in a dead-end job.
I can't draw anymore. No matter how hard I try, my art never comes out the way I want it to. When I first started out, I was on the right track. I understood that the process would take time and a shitton of practice, and I was willing to see it through. I enjoyed drawing for drawing's sake, and it was one of my main coping mechanisms for the avalanche of problems I faced in my childhood. I devoted myself to the craft, and every day after returning home from school, I'd spend hours cooped up in my room, mindlessly doodling to my heart's content. Those were some of the happiest and most memorable days of my life.
But as the years flew by, it became increasingly difficult to create anything. The decline of my mental state has finally caught up to me, and I feel like I've regressed. I once believed that I could double down on my craft and, in spite of my issues, still manage to produce the same quality of work as I always did. But, in the eyes of my perfectionism, all my efforts were for nothing, and I'm back to square one. I have no motivation or drive left to bother giving a shit about practicing, and the passion is quickly dying out. I feel lazy and sluggish whenever I pick up a pencil, and I hate myself for it. I know that I should try harder, that I should be willing to bite the bullet and just tough it out in the name of my passion, but I just can't bring myself to do so. I'm starting to think that maybe I'm not cut out for the art world, and that thought brings me to tears. I'm not academically gifted. I suck at math, my creative writing is subpar at best, and I have the memory of a damn goldfish. I feel like a useless shell of a human being.
The thought of pursuing a non-art-related career makes me sick to my stomach. I see no point in working in a field that brings you no joy, as you're simply reduced to a robot that's mindlessly going through the motions. That way of living sounds fucking MISERABLE. There's definitely more to a job than simply making ends meet. I desperately want to be at the same level as my fellow artists, and I hate that my brain can't understand art the way it used to. I'm just this lazy, sluggish, stupid thing that can't even draw an arm right. If I can't draw, then I have amounted to nothing, and I'm better off dying than being stuck in a dead-end job.