Told to me by my mom too. The sentence still rings in my mind, not because of how much it irritates me but because of how inherently true it is. And not long before that, she also felt the need to tell me directly that she doesn't care about how I feel, nor if I hurt myself. Thanks for supporting me, mom.

After already struggling with a potent and vicious envy, tormenting and tearing me apart from the inside out that nobody besides myself can comprehend the degree of, I've reached a breaking point beyond what I've felt before. Living life, unable to stop thinking of someone who feels the exact same, just better.

Disturbingly similar attributes, ideas, and one particular concept. A concept they executed first, because unlike me, they're smart, and put their years of childhood into crafting something awe inspiring, something I should've done by now. It all perfectly lines up and enunciates all of my shortcomings. Constant crying, nightmares, panic attacks, and many points of a gun to my head. I'm nineteen, and they're a year younger than I am, which really tells how close I was.

All of these desires and concepts, too bad they were stuck in a frangible brain like mine so I could only watch everyone similar sprout and bloom into something significant and prodigious. Something I should have done. Unfortunately, I clearly wasn't meant to accomplish any of that.

So I've tried drawing boxes, and figures, but in the end, I know better. How it'll take years of struggling with this before anything I create even resembles anything I want it to be. I don't have the willpower to do it, nothing to overcome my feelings of valuelessness.

I've just wanted to impress people. Endlessly feeling boring and disposable takes a toll on you, especially when you see other people very similar to you shining like stars. And this means there's technically no more passion in me. Passion is the heart and soul in the concept of art.

So I realized something. That I'm not capable of true art. That I can't comprehend true art.

Sure, whatever may be unique about me will die with me before any of it could come out. But you know what? There's a lot of people out there who do it better. There are people who's unique ideas are more intuitive and inspiring than mine are.

The artist I envy has executed concepts and ideas with disturbingly strong similarities to my own, just better, and there are many alike him as well. So if people would like whatever is unique about me so damn much, they can just go to that fucking artist instead. The one who didn't fuck everything up. The one who could handle the hardships he was dealt. I'm done with it all.

I already tried shooting myself in 2016, and failed. Once I try a second, I definitely won't have to try a third.