Read on Twitter
time is running out and i can& #39;t figure out what to draw or how to draw it in a satisfying way and i& #39;m just getting increasingly upset. I could just lay down and try to think of ideas but it feels like giving up and it& #39;s upsetting as well.
my days usually start well and somewhat productive and then it& #39;s art time and everything goes to shit. but i can& #39;t just "not draw" therefore I can& #39;t have a good day. I have to be reminded every single day how fucking useless i am.
i can& #39;t even put that energy elsewhere. i don& #39;t feel like writing. i want to draw. i need to draw. i wanna improve, but i can& #39;t because i get stuck in the dumbest places
i wanna fucking give up on everything but then the world will keep moving on without me, i& #39;ll just feel even more behind than i already do if i don& #39;t keep trying (and failing)
im so tired to hate everything i do not because it& #39;s bad but because it& #39;s not ENOUGH. my art isn& #39;t bad it& #39;s insufficient, unsatisfying and leaves me angry and disappointed.
but does it leave me with any alternative?? No, because everything else is just not appealing, i just end up doing nothing trying to do something i hypothetically like but brings me next to no joy.
except the few things that are still satisfying to do will no longer be fun if I do more of it instead of drawing. it works because i don& #39;t spend all my time on it. just like i couldn& #39;t spend all my time drawing even if I wanted to.
my art process 1. try 2. fail 3. laugh at myself and thinking how much i suck
(4. wander on google to try and figure out what is wrong with me)
i can& #39;t fucking recall the last time i enjoyed drawing, all i enjoy is getting things done and finding them satisfying. guess how often that fucking happens. no matter how many skills i may have taken one by one if they don& #39;t bring me joy what& #39;s the point of having them??
what i know is useless in regard of what i achieve, what i can do is unreachable because of what i can& #39;t do, what i used to know no longer has any purpose because i& #39;m diminished. i feel like a fucking hollow machine.
like yeah, great, i have no more anxiety and truly i& #39;m not mourning being afraid of everything. instead i am afraid of nothing anymore and i just have enough motivation to function, but functioning isn& #39;t living.
when have i been really living??? being anxious and plagued with panic attack wasn& #39;t really living, and now being useless, ambitionless and not improving in anything art-wise isn& #39;t living either?? I feel like i& #39;ve become like everybody, or a nobody.
like i feel about myself the way i feel about dull people??? I& #39;m not interested in anything anymore? Or I am, but I can& #39;t feel it, I just know it& #39;s interesting so i keep pursuing it because otherwise i& #39;m bored. i& #39;ve been killing time for a year like this.
and it& #39;s starting to have an adverse effect on the very thing that got fixed by my antidepressants like...if I keep getting anxious over accomplishing nothing and hating myself all the time for it and feeling that i& #39;m wasting time and falling behind, i& #39;ll get even more anxious?
i think i& #39;ve hit the limit of what my antidepressant could do for me, now i& #39;ve realized its bad side effects it& #39;s just as bad as the lower dose, a fucking pyrrhic victory.
like at the lower dose it& #39;s consuming ms with overthinking and worrying and being afraid of everything, at the upper dose it& #39;s withering away like a neglected flower in a vase.
and i can& #39;t even be honest with how terrible I feel because there& #39;s no one who can help me so there& #39;s also no one worth burdening with my problems. my mom is tired because my grandma is awful, i have to hide my suffering from my grandma as well cuz she weaponizes it against me-
and makes it worse. how long will i be able to keep this facade when i& #39;m so bitter with everything and everyone who doesn& #39;t seem to have my problems??? it& #39;s not even fair that I get upset at the people around me who are doing well, but like, i just want to disappear and rot away
im like, not wanting to talk to anyone and yet i still do because i need to function. somehow it comforts everyone and even myself to pretend i am still functional. and im scared of secluding myself completely cuz it will make me drown even faster.
but at this point i feel the only person i can vent at with a good reason to is my therapist?? except i already know that what im going to explain is the same as I previously did and there& #39;s no answer to it.
but i talk to my therapist like once a week and then i have remission times between relapses so it feels everything goes well and i dont complain about anything anymore.
the truth is, i am unable to make my therapist realize the depth of my distress. i feel she can only catch the tip of the iceberg while the part under water is ENORMOUS. and I sorta have to address that but then i forget because explaining one problem already wastes so much time
i keep living while believing that there& #39;ll be an end to my problems but somehow they keep piling up instead. i always felt like everything about my life was terrible but the fact that i can& #39;t feel otherwise in spite of time, wisdom or therapy, is even more terrifying.
am i gonna feel like this my whole life? am i going to chase after a version of me that can& #39;t ever exist, trying to impress myself while i keep raising the standards and moving the goalposts for myself?? Is there no end to my insatisfaction and my feeling of emptiness??
