My creative side has always been the one thing that tethered me to life. Ever since I was a child, it’s been the part of me that made everything else feel bearable—something soft and warm in a world that felt cold and sterile. And yet, all throughout school, it was the first thing to get pushed aside. There was never enough time. Too many assignments, too many deadlines, too many lectures to sit through. Creativity was a luxury.
Now I’m in the adult world, and nothing’s changed. If anything, it’s worse. When I spend a little extra time writing something—really writing, not just spitting words out to fill space—I immediately get reminded that there’s “still a lot to do.” That it was good, but… there’s always a but. “We have more tasks.” “It won’t be done in time.” “It’s not efficient.”
You can’t do it because there’s no time. What are we even chasing? Are we even satisfied?
Every workplace runs on urgency. Everything is a priority. Everyone is overwhelmed. Everyone wants more. More efficiency, more output, more engagement, more originality, more reach, more more more.
I don’t even know what I’m trying to reach anymore. When I pause and really ask myself what all this rush is for, it gets depressing. What happens when we succeed? What happens when we become the best, the most productive, the most visible, the most followed? Will it finally be quiet then? Why can’t I take 35 minutes instead of 15 to write something that feels alive?
Everyone says they want authenticity, originality, newness. But when something takes time, when it doesn’t come out in pre-packaged formats or AI-generated templates, there’s no patience for it. We can now produce faster than ever, but our working hours haven’t changed. We’re not resting more. We’re not slowing down. We’re just… churning.
This “always-on” cycle of productivity doesn’t care about the people caught in between. Those who need time to think, to feel, to create something that isn’t immediately “useful.”
And honestly, I’m tired. My creative mind is a problem because it slows things down. I don’t want to be faster. I want to be better. I want to make something that matters. I want to feel like there’s still room for real thought in a world that’s sprinting toward something none of us can even name.
If this resonates with you, you might also like repeat until collapse.
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