Don't know how to describe it all. I've written and rewritten my thoughts and explanations so many times, just to be met with radio silence, that I now know explaining it in a way that does it all justice is beyond my abilities.

On top of a strong depression and desire to commit suicide withering me for years, I fell into an excruciating pit of envy of an artist younger than I. And now, I've lost. I have to exit.

I seem to have gotten toxically obsessed with the novelty of being good at something at a young age, like your teens. Not only because of the various artists I've found who've made amazing things in their teens, but also because of my almost lifetime desire to just be good at something.

I could've been able to do the things I want to do by now. I could've been able to inspire and help people like myself by now. I could've been able to support myself with the skill I developed for years by now. I could've had value beyond potential value.

I don't doubt my ability to work toward the art skills I wish for. I just screwed up majorly, and now I'm in a spot where I feel too much disdain and resentment toward everything to really give a damn about trying to fix any of it.

Whether you like it or not, people are more impressed by skill when executed at a younger age. The artist I envy is younger than me, and that has played a significant role in ruining my willpower.

So thinking about it now, in the end, 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.

Yes, I've tried drawing boxes, drawing figures, but in the end, I don't feel any willpower to continue, because I feel valueless and nothing can really happen to divert that feeling. And because of that, that means there's technically no more passion in me. Passion is the heart and soul in the concept of art.

Thousands are mesmerized by the creations of the artist I envy. And I'm mesmerized too. And it destroys me. I don't have any time to develop anything to a significant degree before I'm 20. So with all of that, combined with the desperation for validation I have, and the passion I lack, I see zero reason to even attempt pushing forward, and zero reason to not take my life.

So there it is. I'm not capable of true art. 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 my unique ideas 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 hate this planet, everything that moves on it, everything in the observable universe. Surviving in any capacity is no longer an option for me.