Lately, I’ve been reflecting on this strange pressure to keep up—creatively, professionally, personally. It feels like everyone around me is sprinting, chasing visibility, constantly putting something out into the world. But I’ve come to realize that it takes real strength to walk slower. To move with intention instead of impulse. To resist the shortcuts, even when they seem to promise more reach, more validation, more immediacy.
I’m not here to race. I’m here to build something that stands the test of time instead of becoming the short-lived product of the most recent hype.
The truth is, I’m deeply invested in the quality and longevity of what I make. I don’t drop projects for the sake of staying visible. I drop them when they’re ready, when they feel meaningful, when they resonate with the pace and rhythm of the life I’m actually living. That takes time, it takes patience, and it takes trust—in the work and in myself.
Yes, there’s a competitive part in me, like in most artists. But I’ve learned to honor that energy without letting it drive me into burnout or self-doubt. I know what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. And I trust that the right people will find it when the time is right.
So here I am. Walking, not sprinting. Focused, not frantic. Still moving forward.