I was supposed to write this five months ago. But I kept avoiding it – not because I didn’t want to write, but because I didn’t feel like I knew how to make something just for the sake of making it anymore. I still don’t. And maybe I’m not the only one.

I’ve been thinking about how easy it used to feel – when I was younger and painting, playing, building tiny worlds just to be in motion. Back then, creativity felt like breathing. Now, even stretching feels excessive. Picking up a pencil feels like a struggle. Most days I end up doomscrolling: dancers, disasters, meme creators, war, beauty, rage – all of it flashing past in seconds.

The Dazed article “Everyone Is a Content Creator Now” lays it out clearly: we’ve all become performers, even when we’re not trying to be influencers. The writer describes tourists filming themselves in museums like they’re on assignment. It’s like we’ve absorbed the job of being creators – even when there’s no actual job. We recreate, record, repost – even when no one’s watching. And we don’t always know why.