I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve hit this same creative wall, to the point where I’m questioning if I’m even cut out for this work. Am I genuinely a designer, or did I just stumble my way here, somehow convincing myself that I belong?
I tell myself it’s just another rough patch. It has to be, right? Because if it’s not, what’s the point of all those late nights, the never-ending tweaks, and chasing after ideas that always seem a step ahead of me?
Lately, it’s more than just a case of creative block. It’s a nagging sense of “why am I even doing this?” Is it just for the paycheck? Even if it is, it never feels like I’m truly earning for myself—there’s always someone or something else to pay off. And if money is my only “why,” then it’s no wonder I feel stuck. This endless pursuit of something so fleeting is starting to seem pointless.
But I keep going, not because I want to, but because I have to. And with each step, I’m left wondering: Am I just drifting along without any real direction? What am I working toward? Is there something more to this life, or am I just running on autopilot?
These questions linger at the back of my mind, weighing me down. Yet, I push through, day after day. Because honestly, what else is there to do?