I’m so fucking pissed.

At who? No idea.

Maybe myself. Maybe everyone. Maybe the whole damn universe.

There’s this one artist I’ve been obsessing over the past few days. I found her profile a while ago, and honestly? She’s the reason for at least a few of my breakdowns.

She’s good. Like, actually talented. Her ideas? Amazing. She does collages too — totally different style from mine, but I really admire the way she sees things.

But here’s the thing: her work is sloppy as fuck.

And I mean, I get it — handmade art isn’t supposed to be perfect. That’s part of the value. But this? It’s not even about imperfections anymore. It’s just… zero effort.
Glue smudges. Jagged cuts. Like, not even trying to cut a straight line — and I’m not exaggerating, a kid could’ve done it cleaner.

And yet… she’s selling this shit for €150 a piece.

One single playing card-sized collage — badly cut, clearly rushed — and it’s SOLD OUT. ALWAYS!

Like, what the actual fuck?

I’m not gonna share her stuff here — this isn’t about dragging someone.

It’s about how insanely frustrating it feels to watch someone barely try, and thrive,

while I’m over here breaking my fucking back on every piece.
Every line, every detail.

I spend hours, days, making sure it looks right. And yeah, I’m not perfect either — but at least I give a shit.

I film Reels every damn day. I show up. I put in the work.
And still, if I manage to sell two artworks in six months — it’s a win.

That shit kills my motivation. It makes you question everything.
What the hell am I doing wrong?
Why does it feel like I’m screaming into the void, while others just whisper and the world throws money at them?

I can’t break past 50k.

My stats go up, then crash. Up, crash.

And she? 300K and constant sales.

I know follower counts aren’t everything,

but for me they matter — they’re potential collectors. Real people who might connect with my work.
And every time I feel like I’m finally gaining ground, the floor drops out again.

I know I shouldn’t compare. I know this is my own journey.
And I’m proud of myself, truly. For not giving up.

For showing up. For believing, even when it feels like shit.
I’m grateful for what I have, for what I’ve built.

But sometimes, man… I just want to fucking disappear.

Not in a dramatic way — just… shut it all off.

The burnout is so real it makes it hard to even pick up a brush.

I hate social media. It fucks with my head.

And yet… it’s how I connect with the world.

It gives me a voice. It brings people to my art.

It’s both poison and medicine.

I’m just waiting for this shitty phase to pass.

So I can sit down again and create without all the noise.
Without the fear.
Without constantly wondering if I’m enough.

Because deep down… I know I am.

I just forget sometimes.