The Art of Showing Up
No one taught me how to make “art.”
But here I am—showing up.
With a laptop full of untitled files.
And a mind swinging between anxiety and pure thrill.
All I know is—I want to design.
I want to make art.
And somehow, that’s been enough.
There’s no map.
No clear path.
But something inside lights up every time I try.
I’ve messed up a lot.
Doubted even more.
But I keep going.
Because there’s a strange calm in creating from the mess.
And a stubborn voice in me that says—this is it.
I don’t have a degree to prove it.
No blueprint to follow.
But I’ve got the realest proof:
I’m doing it.
Each line, each sketch, is a quiet scream saying yes, it’s possible.
Not because someone told me.
But because it’s happening.
And that—
That’s already a win.
