The particular sadness of feeling like a hack

In the creative world, there’s this disturbing phenomenon of reading, viewing, hearing, experiencing art that slaps you in the face with your own insecurities and makes you never want to pick up a pen, brush, camera, tutu ever again because you’ll never be that good, that skilled, that talented. It taunts you with its beauty and ease, sweetly whispering these are heights you can never even aspire to.

It breaks your heart even as it delights you.

For my whole life, this demoralizing bitch-slap h...