Since I was twelve years old, I started editing. I’ve always been a perfectionist, and in this case, it was no different. I was taught that if I was going to do something, I had to be the best at it. Letting go of that mindset was never easy. At first, editing felt like a safe place. Somewhere I could turn my thoughts and feelings into something I could actually see. It was fun. It felt real. It felt like me. But little by little, that feeling started to change. I began comparing my edits to everyone else’s. Not just their work—but their numbers too. Likes, views, comments. I would post something I worked hard on, something I actually loved, and then immediately check how it was doing. If it didn’t “perform well,” it suddenly felt like it didn’t matter. I was never the one to have good numbers. My edits almost never did well. And at some point, I started to feel worthless—which, looking back, should have never happened. But when you’re checking your performance every few seconds, comparing every number to everyone else’s, it starts to get to you. That’s when everything shifted. Every small mistake felt big. Every detail had to be perfect. I stopped enjoying the process and started focusing on how my work looked next to someone else’s—and how it was being received. Editing stopped being an escape. It became pressure. I forgot why I even started.I wasn’t creating for myself anymore. I was creating to prove something. To reach a level I thought I had to be at. And no matter how much I improved, it never felt like enough—because there was always someone better, someone with more recognition, someone with higher numbers. To get out of that, I first had to fall deep into it. And then I realized something—no one could change my mindset but me. So I started making small changes. I stopped editing trendy things just to be seen, and started editing what I actually loved. Little by little, I stopped caring so much about validation and began enjoying the process again. I would post my edits and close the app. I would go do things I liked, just to stop myself from checking every few seconds. And over time, it became normal—not needing to check if it was doing well. Because I liked it. And for the first time, that felt like enough. Over time, I realized how much comparison can take from you. It doesn’t just affect your confidence. It changes the way you see your own art. It makes you question things you once loved. It turns something personal into something performative. Because being a fan editor is not about validation—or even success. It’s about putting your thoughts in a safe place. It’s about finding people who create for the same reasons you do. Comparison will never be the key to being good or feeling free. It only kills your creativity. And slowly, it makes you want to give up something you actually love—just because you’re chasing validation that cannot come from anyone else but yourself. To be confident, you have to learn to trust yourself. Your skills. Your instincts. Your gut. Every creation has a moment where you have to stop and say: this is enough. This is complete. This is good. Constantly second-guessing yourself will not make your art better. It will only take away its original meaning. The greatest pieces never come from hating your own edits. They come from enjoying the process —creating something that makes you proud. I’m still learning to let go of that mindset. To create without checking numbers. Without comparing. Without asking if it’s “good enough” for others. Because at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if everyone else loves your edits if you don’t love them yourself. That would be like rejecting your own mind. Your own feelings. So in the end, no one else’s opinion on your art matters more than your own.

- by @andr1m3da