i don’t trust the idea of balance when it comes to making things. not the motivational kind tho,

craft needs obsession, the slightly concerning kind., the kind that makes time behave strangely and sleep feel optional.

the good work doesn’t come from talent alone, it comes from caring a little too much. from thinking about the same problem again and again, even when nobody’s watching. especially then.

obsession is staying longer than necessary, reworking something no one asked you to improve.

not because it pays more, but because it itches.

and then it starts leaking, into the books you read, suddenly slower, more intentional, into the sentences you underline, into how you notice structure, pacing, silence.

it changes how you speak, you choose words more carefully, you pause more, you hate saying things you don’t mean, may it mean being misunderstood.

it shows up in how you carry yourself. a certain seriousness. not arrogance, just intent. like you’re always holding something unfinished in your head.

people like to romanticise inspiration, but obsession is quieter. uglier. repetitive,it’s showing up on days when the work feels dull and doing it anyway, badly, patiently.

it’s noticing tiny flaws others won’t see, and fixing them anyway, it’s being annoyed by your own work, which is a quiet sign of growth.

an unhealthy amount of obsession means your craft follows you everywhere. meals. walks. conversations, your brain doesn’t really clock out. and yes, it’s exhausting, it’s isolating sometimes.

it makes you hard to relate to at dinner tables, but it’s also how depth is built, how taste sharpens. how work starts to carry fingerprints instead of trends,

you don’t obsess because you want validation. you obsess because something inside you refuses to let it go unfinished, because doing it halfway feels worse than doing it tired.

maybe one day you’ll learn moderation, maybe not.

for now, let the obsession stay, it knows what it’s doing.