It's 4 AM. You know that feeling when you're just… scrolling? Not even looking for anything in particular, just letting your thumb do the work. One portfolio leads to another. Then another. All these incredible designers. Their work is just… *chef’s kiss*. Clean, innovative, *daring*. The kind of stuff that makes you actually GASP out loud. My jaw drops, seriously. And then the little voice starts. The voice that says, “Why aren’t *you* doing work like this?” And then you remember your last client, the one who wanted everything bigger and bolder and ‘more impactful’ which really just meant Comic Sans on a bright red background. And you agreed because… well, because rent. And because your parents just called to ask if you’re making enough to send some back home, like your cousin’s husband does. “He’s a *real* designer,” they said. Ouch. So you keep scrolling, even though your eyes are burning and your head is starting to throb. It’s a self-inflicted wound, this late-night doom scroll. Every perfect kerning, every brilliant color palette, every project that actually got *funded* – it’s a dagger. And the guilt. Oh god, the GUILT. Because you know you should be sleeping. You know you need to be fresh for the morning. But you can't stop. It's like you're punishing yourself. And then the sun starts to peek through the blinds. Grey light. And you’re still here, phone hot in your hand, feeling like absolute CRAP. Not just tired, but fundamentally useless. Like you’ll never be good enough. Nunca. And you know you’re going to spend the whole day tomorrow running on fumes, making stupid mistakes, and then you’ll be even *more* behind. It’s a vicious cycle, this one. I don't know why I do it. It’s stupid, I know. Just… just go to sleep. But the images are burned into your brain now. Those perfect portfolios. And the feeling that you’re just… wasting time. Wasting your life. While everyone else is out there creating masterpieces. What am I even doing? Qué estoy haciendo? Just… staring at their success until my own failure feels too big to ignore.