It’s been a while since I posted anything here. 

After every big break, I make a new plan: “From now on, I’ll post every Sunday.” And it works… until it doesn’t. One Sunday passes, I tell myself I’ll skip just this one — and suddenly it’s been almost three months.

What always bothered me is this: Why do we need motivation and discipline to do things we love? 

I love writing. I love making art. 

So why do I so often fall off the wagon of consistency? Why do I procrastinate something that brings me joy?

Is it perfectionism?

I’ve thought about it. And sure, that’s one reason. The well known “I’m not going to do it until I am good enough” trap. Or “I didn’t start on time today, might as well do it tomorrow”.

But I think there’s something more beneath that. 
It’s not just perfectionism or lack of discipline. It’s fear. Doubt. Overwhelm.

Or… maybe it’s just exhaustion from shouting into the void. 

Creating in the age of endless noise

Sometimes it feels like no matter what you say, it just doesn’t reach anyone. 

You post something that you probably spent hours and sometimes days creating, and it just disappears. Another tiny drop in an ocean of content. 

Most people are online to be seen, but rarely anyone stops to truly look. Billions of people connected… yet at the same time many feel isolated more than ever. 
Everyone wants to be seen, heard, appreciated. But very few have the energy to truly listen or engage deeply with others. 

And it’s not just about creating anymore, about skills or meaningful work. It’s about editing, captioning, cutting, trending, marketing, performing. It’s about playing the game. 

The attention economy demands more than just art — it wants entertainment. It wants engagement. And engagement comes most easily from sensational content — not necessarily the good stuff. 

And honestly… that exhausts me. 
It kinda depresses me. 
And maybe you feel the same. 

But what if I don’t want to play?

That’s the question I keep coming back to. 

What if you don’t want to dance for attention?
What if you just want to create quietly, but still feel like you’re part of something, like your effort is seen? 
Is there room online for people like that?
How can you be an artist without fighting in the arena of likes, algorithms and noise?

My answer is: building your own “quiet resonance” path.

That means creating in a way that feels true to you. It means focusing on slow but deep work. It’s resisting the FOMO-driven urgency of social media. It means that you don’t chase, you build.  
And maybe someone stumbles on your blog 3 years later, and it changes them.

Spreading quietly but steadily at human speed, not algorithm speed — is much more sustainable. For your own growth and for your own mental well being.
Instead of hacking people’s attention, you let them walk in. Trusting that your work will eventually reach the right people.

The artist who doesn’t play. 

There’s this artist I appreciate, an artist who doesn’t seem to play the game — Alariko. 

He posts these nostalgic, cozy illustrations. No captions, no hype, no reels. Just… art.
And thousands of people follow him. They comment. He never replies.
They buy his work.
His art just simply exists — and that’s enough. He doesn’t need to speak, art speaks for itself. 

Was it always like that for him?
Or did he first show up more actively, build his audience, and then retreat?
I don’t know. But it gives me hope that maybe — just maybe — there’s space for art to speak on its own, without needing for its creator to shout.

So yes, there are artists who thrive without dancing for attention.
And that reminds me that I don’t have to play the game that I don’t enjoy. 

But my art isn’t there yet

I know my work isn’t strong enough to stand silently on its own. Not yet. 
It has a long way to go and I still have a lot to learn. 
That makes me wonder sometimes if I should just wait until I’m “good enough” to share. 

That’s why I stop posting sometimes for a while. 

But I’ve realized — that’s not the solution either. 
Hiding until I’m “ready” will never make me ready. It means never building resilience that I’ll need to become ready. And what better way to build resilience than by failing again and again. 

So I get back to my desk. I keep creating and writing. I keep posting into the void and going unnoticed — but this time knowing that this is my path that I’m choosing to build.
And who knows, maybe there is something more to it than just succeeding as an artist. 

This path is not romantic

I recently read a comment from a husband about his wife, who had spent sixteen years trying to make it as an artist — and didn’t. No success story. No dream realized.
It is a reality that not everyone “makes it”. For every artist that succeeds and manages to make a living from their art, there are hundreds who are still trying. 

We live in a time where everyone wants to turn their passion into their profession. I did too. I fell in love with that idea. And for everyone who dreams of that, there’s nothing wrong with it. Why wouldn’t you want to enjoy what you’re doing every day and be able to make a living from it? 

But the truth is that it’s hard. The road is rough. And sometimes, there’s not even a road at all. 

So I try to remember why I even started this journey. In the beginning it was never because I wanted to make it as an artist or go viral. It was simply because I needed to calm my mind. To get things out of my head and remember how it feels to exist and enjoy something again. And I believe this is true for many artists. Some just find a way to monetize it.

So no matter what I end up doing for money — I keep creating. 
Because what else would I do in my spare time?

I’m not there yet, but I’m on my way

My art isn’t perfect. My posts never go viral. 

But I’m still here — learning, writing, sketching, searching, and posting. 

And maybe that’s enough. 

Being an artist today, without competing online, means accepting that I won’t grow as fast. Algorithms won’t make me famous. But I will grow roots that are true to myself. I will be a tree in the forest — quietly growing to my full potential while becoming part of the ecosystem in a sustainable way. And maybe, one day, someone will walk by and stop to rest under this tree.