Disappointment. Art has been deeply disappointing for me. Creation after creation, my heart feels downcast; my mind troubled with the shame of failure. I believe there must be a reason to continue creating, though most of my being questions why I ceaselessly set myself up to fail. I have wondered over this for some time; what is the reason I cling to, that I need to create? Almost in the same way that I need to breathe, sleep or drink water. During times of questioning art in my life, people have asked me: but does it bring you joy? And I can't honestly say that it does. Not always. But do I need it? Yes. It brings me life in a way I can't explain. It brings me peace like I'm more fully accepting what I am created to be—a creator—even if I think that I suck at it.