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pakeithpsy · 23 days

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Creativity: A Life Wasted

I think I know what my problem is now.

I don't actually enjoy art, or writing, or animating, or designing games, or ANY of the creative process.

What I ACTUALLY enjoy is just having ideas and then hyperfixating on them for ages, fantasizing about how cool they would be until I inevitably get bored with them.

I like coming up with new ideas and ruminating on their possibilities more than I do actually acting upon them because I'm a pathetic failure of an adult who was never once challenged or defied by his peers and now I'm completely unprepared to actually do the work because it no longer makes me happy.

I'm just a complete fucking joke. I don't deserve to call myself a creative. I'm no better than all those AI douchebags who want all the glory of being an artist with none of the effort, and even they have more fucking drive than I do. Goddamn Christian Weston Chandler has more balls than I do - at least they actually fucking MADE something.

In 2017 I applied to online art college, having spent my entire life drawing the wrong way. It was the wake up call I needed, because it made me realize I'm not an artist, I never have been, and I never will be and that I was completely unfit to live in the adult world. If I ever wanted to pass, I would need to completely unlearn everything I knew about art. Nobody ever taught or explained any of the elements of art or figure drawing to me - all my art teachers when I was in school never once explained any of this. I had spent my entire life drawing the wrong way and had it committed to muscle memory. All of this new information and the speed at which it was being fed to me was confusing, scary, overwhelming. Everything they said I had to do sounded extremely hard, tedious, exhausting, and just beyond any of my capabilities.

I ended up falling behind because the material was just so difficult and moving too fast I gave up on even trying because it just didn't seem possible or worth my time. I felt like I couldn't do it. I KNEW I couldn't do it. I had spent my whole life thinking I had a calling for art when in reality my peers were just coddling me to spare my feelings, never once asking me if I had a plan or helping me find the resources I needed or even just giving me the tiniest ounce of criticism that my dream was unrealistic. Everyone told me I'd grow up to be an artist or a writer or animator and I just believed them like a fucking idiot.

I nearly killed myself because I felt like such a burden on my family, wasting all their money on trying to help my incompetent ass when I was too far gone. I was holding them back from enjoying and enriching their own lives because all that time was wasted on trying to get me to make something of myself. All my life I had been a constant disappointment to them and to myself. I thought I was nothing but a bane on their existence - all their dreams, all their aspirations, their own chance at happiness, all gone because they had to give it up to take care of me, and I repaid them by being a lazy piece of shit who refused to change or grow up. I genuinely thought their lives would be better if I had never been born and they'd be happy to see me dead, no longer bound by the chains of my arrested development and constant failure. I was doing nothing but holding them back. "If I were dead, then Mom could find a job instead of having to stay home all day taking care of her incompetent adult son," I thought to myself. "Then my brother won't have to wait on me or put up with my crap, everyone will be able to afford nicer things now that they're not throwing all their money away on classes that I refuse to get anything out of."

Now I wish I had gone through with it, that way all the people whose time I've wasted would get those precious hours of their life back, and so I wouldn't have had to watch as the creative industry, the place I thought I belonged, get gutted and mutilated and stomped into nothing by corporate greed, leaving me no option but to go indie, an impossible task for trash like me. I have no following, no connections, crippling fear of socialization and failure, no money to hire help, no experience in running a production, no TALENT for any of this. No matter how much I try I simply cannot learn because I can't handle even the tiniest setback or hurdle. What a complete joke. What was I even thinking? The only way to get what I want is to change who I am, something I've been trying to do for years but every time I try I keep spiraling back and ending up back at square one.

A while back I took an animation class specifically for people with autism. I was far and away the best artist there (for what little that means). Everyone else's skill was on par with a third grader who just started using MS Paint. But did they care? NO! They were just happy to be there at all. They LOVED drawing, they were EXCITED to start using Animate and they dived right in. Meanwhile I was busy bawling my eyes out because I couldn't even draw a still image of someone throwing a simple punch. I couldn't do anything more complex than a simple bouncing ball because the thought of drawing anything more complicated overwhelmed me with fear. So even compared to other disabled people I'm a complete and utter embarrassment. Hell, just this week at another class I was frustrated because I couldn't even draw a fucking APPLE correctly, aka Basic Drawing 101. What was I thinking, trying to convince myself I belong here?

I haven't talked about it in a while, but I have a whole adult cartoon concept I've been working on since at least 2013, for the past decade of my life it's been my main goal to see it finished. I have a whole series bible, several episode outlines, a script for a full 30-minute episode, and a whole storyboard for a short pilot of sorts that I even got my friends to record voices for. I was hoping to pitch it to Adult Swim or another network and then work my way up from there. But I wasted so much time fantasizing about what it could lead to that I never stopped to think about what would happen if something changed. I didn't know TV and streaming would become so utterly fucked that pitching to them would become a losing game, especially for a lowly nobody like me who can't even crack a thousand views on YouTube anymore unless it's a vocoded Family Guy clip. And as for going indie, what's the point in that? It's an adult comedy conceived in 2013 with all the humor that would entail, and the minute people figure out the punchline of the short they're going to immediately decide that they hate it, it has no potential, and I'm a lazy hack without ever seeing everything else I have to show for it. I feel like the only way anybody would even give it a smidgen of a chance is if I were to spoil everything that happens later (i.e. the parts that aren't meant to be funny), but I don't want to have to ruin the surprise just to get people to care one iota about it. I want people to support it and care about these characters because they genuinely like what I've made and want to see more of their antics and stories, not because they check all the boxes in their list of requirements for what a "real" cartoon should be. Any passion I once had for the idea is gone because of factors out of my control, and what little passion I do still have is merely out of spite for shows that are pretentious and up their own ass with drama and lore and the mere thought of giving the middle finger to the mindset that animation only matters if it's angsty and unfun, not because I still believe in this world and its characters.

"WELL JUST MOVE ON TO A NEW PROJECT DIPSHIT." Okay. Fine. I have. I've got TONS of ideas for other things I'd like to make. But why should I when I have no faith in myself that I can even do it? Why put in the effort when my passion for art is dead in the water? Nothing I can do right now will get me any closer to fulfilling my dreams. I can't afford to hire a crew, I wouldn't know the first thing about directing, nobody's going to give me the money because nothing I can make with my current skillset would ever grab anyone's attention, let alone make them think it's worthy of financial support, and every attempt I've made at trying to improve myself so that I can make something more impressive always comes up stillborn because of my crippling anxiety and a lifetime of terrible habits.

Chris Wade, Pan-tastique, and Tracy Butler were all right about me, I just want success laid out in front of me without having to do any of the work and I'm an insult to creatives everywhere. A stupid, selfish square trying to shove himself into a round hole. A manchild who would rather fantasize about fame and admiration than spend a single fucking minute actually trying to fix himself because he knows he doesn't have what it takes. The literal definition of an AI chud who thinks all that matters is the idea and doesn't want to put in a single bit of effort, yet I continue to insist I'm better than them instead of just throwing in the towel already.

I'm sorry I ever wasted anybody's time trying to act like one of you. I'm not one of you. I never was. I'm just a mewling little wannabe who needs to go back to the mental hospital before he hurts himself or someone else, shielded from our deteriorating, rotted society where only scum succeed and good people suffer and basic survival becomes more and more unaffordable due to the ruling class never being happy with the billions of dollars they already have.

I just wish someone had the courage to tell me no as a kid. To discourage me, to shoot down my dreams, to tear my awful art and shitty stories to shreds figuratively and literally. Maybe then I could've saved myself before I crashed and burned with nothing else to fall back on. Maybe then I could've found a new passion, something that actually matters to me, something I can actually do and enjoy doing. Maybe then I'd be happy. I'd be someone surrounded with pride and accomplishment and a sense of meaning instead of a bunch of useless middle school-tier doodles and sculptures that I fantasize about destroying because I can't stand the sight of them and all the failure they represent. Someone who was proud of who he is and what he's done. Someone who could've found new idols to collaborate with instead of being constantly disappointed by a bunch of backstabbing Hollywood scumbags. Someone who didn't feel like a constant failure and can't even speak up to his own family or therapist because he's too fucking embarrassed by the idea of asking for help out of fear of judgment and everyone seeing how pathetic and vulnerable he is and would rather run to the arms of strangers who don't know or care about him since it feels less personal.

But no. It wasn't to be. Instead I'm a miserable loser who ruined his own life and will never make anything of himself unless he gets a complete personality transplant and should've just kicked the bucket 6 years ago when he had the chance.

#tw suicide #depression #creativity #art #writing #indie animation #imposter syndrome #anxiety #autism #suicidal #self-esteem #nobody's going to read this #nobody ever does

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glow-worms-are-believers · 10 months

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Mistaken Identities (dp x dc)

Danny had been doing his thing, looking around, making sure he didn't alter anything in the past, minding his own business. Officially, this was supposed to be a trip to gather more blood blossom samples for Team Phantom to study, but he had ended up being a little sidetracked. Apparently though, puritan times made for beautiful forests, sue him if he was enjoying a moment of peace in his otherwise crazy life. So here he was, relaxing for the first time in way too long when this guy just barged into the clearing. Danny straightened up with a yelp which had the guy stopping in his tracks before he turned to look at Danny.

"Be not afraid, child. I mean you no harm," the man said.

Danny squinted as he looked up at the half-shadowed face of the man that seemed vaguely familiar.

"Boy?"

"Uh-" Danny managed as he realized he was supposed to answer. "Oh yeah, no problem, man."

The man tilted his head which directed Danny's attention to his weird buckle-hat. Sobering up as he recognized the clothes from his previous jaunt in the past where Sam had almost gotten burnt at the stake, he mentally congratulated himself for turning back into a human before his nap. He really didn't want to end up trapped in blood blossoms by witch-finders again.

"Are you lost?" The man said, as he edged closer. "Do you require aid?"

The halfa jumped to his feet. "Nope!" Danny said before letting out a nervous laugh. "No aid, I'm all good. Thanks though."

The man opened his mouth to say something before another voice, higher pitched stopped him. "You are back!" A woman wearing a simple dress, with a few birds fluttering around her like a Disney princess approached them.

"Annie," answered the man.

"Come," she said before leading him away with only a glance towards the teenager. The man let himself be dragged away, but not before a last few words. "If you are ever in need of assistance, please do not hesitate."

Danny waved his hand. "Yep. For sure, dude. Thanks!"

Then before the man had turned away completely, the woman grabbed his hat playfully which revealed his face completely to the weak moonlight, and coincidentally to Danny's view. The couple disappeared between the thick foliage as Danny sat, struck dumb with what he had just witnessed.

"Oh my god," he whispered to himself. "That was Bruce fucking Wayne."

Danny had seen enough rag magazines and newspapers with his face printed on the cover to recognize the billionaire for sure. What the hell was he doing in Puritan times? Then, it hit Danny like a brick. Natural portals. They weren't common, or stable and they'd been known to spirit away people randomly. Clearly, they also had some pretty severe side-effects including amnesia considering the old-timey speech pattern Mr. Wayne was using.

There was only one thing for it, Danny clearly had to bring Mr. Wayne back to the present. Not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because a missing billionaire was bound to attract a good amount of attention and if anyone connected this to the ghost zone... Well if the GIW was bad now, Danny didn't want to know what other kind of unsavoury people would pop up if ghosts were better-known. Just imagining the Justice League getting involved was giving Danny the shivers. No, the best thing to do was get Mr. Wayne back to his time and hope he wouldn't remember much of what had happened and wouldn't dig into it further.

Just as he was nodding to himself, he heard a scream coming from not too far away. He transformed before flying towards the noise, only to find the woman he'd seen before with Mr. Wayne being captured by a bunch of men wearing the same kinds of hat.

"She's a witch! Burn her!" He heard someone yell. "Hang her dead!" Someone else said.

This was giving Danny some major flashback to Sam's very own witch burning and without wasting a second, he phased the woman right out of their grips and flew them away from the angry mob.

As soon as he landed and let go of the woman, she turned to him and gripped his arm instead. "You have to help him!"

"Help who?" Danny asked, wincing.

"Mordecai!" she said, her grip tight.

"Is that the man who was with you earlier?" the teenager asked.

The woman nodded before pointing southeast. "He is in the caves, fighting the dragon!"

Danny didn't waste anytime before flying in the direction she had pointed to. Going intangible helped with speed, and he phased through the ground, going straight for the aforementioned cave. He just phased through when he caught sight of Mr. Wayne. As he got closer, he could feel some sort of energy radiating from the man. Just then, the energy started building up and Mr. Wayne started to go transparent. Panicking, Danny did the first thing he could think of and absorbed the mounting energy to himself. It felt like a shot of adrenaline except way, way stronger and for a moment everything blanked out, before the world came into focus again. When he looked around, he couldn't find a trace of Mr. Wayne, but from the energy left over he could tell exactly when he had landed. The Golden Age of Piracy.

"Goddamit!" Danny yelled as he once again felt Bruce Wayne slip through his grasp as he stole away the potent energy from the billionaire's body before it could follow wherever he was going next. First it had been pirates, then the Wild West and lastly it was 20th century Gotham, clearly the natural portal had been all kinds of fucked up for Mr. Wayne to have been dragged from time period to time period. It was a miracle he was even still alive, the poor man! Danny let out a harsh sigh as he parsed out through the information the energy had left him with. This time he'd gotten the information for the two next time-jumps, which meant, Danny could get ahead of this for once and finally catch Mr. Wayne before he could jump again.

With a steadying intake of breath, Danny took out the Infiniv-map and set his destination before he let himself follow through. As he got through he could hear a bunch of different voices, all talking over each other.

"-distortions mean what I think it-"

"-not fair!"

"-time is breaking-"

"-only leave his body once he's dead."

Danny paid no mind as he locked eyes on Mr. Wayne who was lying in Wonder Woman's arms, in a black bodysuit, looking worse for the wear. The same energy as before was emanating from him, though this time it was even stronger. Danny approached carefully, invisible before he put a hand onto Mr. Wayne's chest and concentrated on drawing all the energy into himself. It wasn't like the other times, the flow was faster and he was having trouble staying focused as more and more flew into him. His brows scrunched in concentration, and unbeknownst to him, the invisibility dropped.

All the heroes in the room turned to look at the suddenly appearing white-haired teen who had a hand on Batman's chest. As they stared in confusion, the teen started to glow. It grew brighter and brighter before everyone had to shield their eyes as there was a pulse of bright light that died down almost immediately after. Wonder Woman had to blink the spots out of her vision as she felt the weight in her arms start to shift and let out a groan. "Bruce!"

She set him down and helped him put his head between his knees, as she gently stroked his back. Superman settled on his other side while Red Robin just sat in front of him, still half-believing Bruce was really back.

"What happened?" Bruce mumbled. "The omega radiation, I thought-"

"I'd like to know that too," Green Lantern said before he turned towards the glowy kid who was still blinking his eyes as if to chase away afterimages.

"His energy signature is the same as Darkseid," Raven said, her own eyes having not left the teenager since he had appeared.

"You don't mean..." started Superman as all the heroes turned to look at the kid slowly. The latter finally looked up as if sensing he was the focus of many eyes and cringed as he met the combined stares of the Justice League.

"Yes," Raven answered. "This is Darkseid's son."

#my guy Danny has no idea what is going on #at least nobody's shooting at him #he would still like to know who is that Darkseid guy and why do these people think he's his dad #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny is Darkseid's son #(at least that's what the justice league think)#this is what happens when you absorb unknown energy willy-nilly #it's just not sanitary who knows where that energy could have come from tsk tsk #I just read Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #so just know this is entirely based off of that #('that' being that period when Bruce was lost in time)#roxpox #roxpoxwrote

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