I was afraid of not growing as an artist. I didn’t think that the things I created would be worthwhile for other people. There was so much doubt inside that even the smallest mistakes had me running for the hills. I couldn’t concentrate in school for fear that I wasn’t good enough.
I’m buried with work I’d already done before and the stress is real. Things can always go for the worse. There I go again with non-simplicity. Such is life.