/fragments

Look back

I recently watched the movie Look Back, and it made me feel a lot. If you haven’t seen it yet—and you’re an isolated artist, scared of the world, secretly yearning for a connection with someone who shares your passion—I truly recommend it.



But, as with many Japanese OVAs, be warned: it has a deeply melancholic side that leaves a hole in your heart.So, I want to follow up with something personal—how it relates to where I’m at right now and how it made me feel. Here we go.I’ve spent the past few months drawing like someone possessed. I sleep very little, sometimes forget to eat, and even though I meet all my responsibilities on time, I get anxious when I have to go to meetings because it means I’m not practicing.

I see my tutor several times a week and I’m constantly doing tests for different projects—like cover art gigs—on top of my hobbies and personal art.There was a time when I gave up on art completely. I felt miserable, talentless, incapable. For a long while, I just drifted. What pulled me back was joining a few art servers on Discord. I started participating, and I loved it. But it also showed me the darker side of my passion: I began to see myself as the lowest link in the food chain—unserious, untalented. Sometimes I posted really awful stuff without even feeling embarrassed. Then I’d scroll and see incredibly skilled artists, and I became such a fan. I deeply admire those people.I didn’t want to fall behind, so I started practicing relentlessly—some nights, I didn’t sleep at all. I actively sought out people who could help me improve, despite how difficult it is for me to make friends or connect with others. Slowly, I started to get better. And honestly, it’s all because of the admiration I feel for those artists. I have no idea if they even see me or notice my work, but I do know this: if, like in the movie, one of them ever reached out to be my friend and share that creative world with me, it would mean everything.

That thought hit me hard while watching Look Back. The two main characters create for different reasons—and one of them isn’t entirely honest about it. I’ve always believed that making art from admiration and love leads to happiness. Doing it out of envy or to seek approval just makes you feel hollow. That’s why I don’t envy the artists I admire. Envy is a heavy, ugly thing—it only makes everything more painful.And that extends to friendship, too. If a friendship is built on envy or insecurity, it can destroy both people. I’ve seen too many inflated egos out there—brilliant artists who tear others down, motivated by jealousy and resentment.

And maybe that’s why I’m so afraid of socializing. I don’t think I could survive something like that. It would hurt too much.In the end, Look Back reminded me why I keep going—why I push through exhaustion, why I reach out even when it scares me, and why I still believe in the quiet magic of admiring someone from afar. It’s not about being the best or getting noticed. It’s about that fragile thread of connection, that hope that maybe, someday, someone will look back too—and see me. And until then, I’ll keep drawing.

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