I am still sensitive about my writing. Some days, I wonder if it’s because I have a narcissistic personality disorder. But what’s crazy is that I find that amusing. Then I start to rub my wounds.
How can anyone attack me and make me feel sad? But well all know that it’s a moment of weakness—because for whatever reason, I don’t feel good enough anymore.
And then it continues.
And strangely enough, when researching and designing, I feel nothing. Because most of the time, I am not doing it for myself. I am doing it for the man.