Your Biggest Fan
Be your own biggest fan, your own biggest believer, and put it on your back and carry the weight.~Nipsey HussleCreating art is unlike anything else in this world.
It’s a gift, a passion, an obsession—and it can feel like an endless journey with no roadmap, no finish line, and often no one to cheer you on. There’s no formula for success, no guaranteed reward at the end, and no applause on cue. But that’s exactly what makes it so extraordinary.
Art gives you the freedom to work on your own terms, create something tangible, and even carve out a life doing what you love. It lets you pour your heart and soul into something real, transforming ideas into reality, and offering a piece of yourself to the world. And when you put it out there, it’s a vulnerable act. It’s like handing over a part of your soul for people to see and feel and, sometimes, judge. The process can be raw, intense, and all-consuming.
But here's the part no one talks about: the loneliness that comes with it.
There’s an isolation in spending hours, days, years creating something that most people will never fully understand. You’re often working alone, in silence, grinding away on an idea that no one else can see. You pour in your blood, sweat, and tears, only to realize that maybe no one else cares as much as you do. Sure, your friends will say, “Wow, that’s cool,” and you might get the occasional, “You’re so talented.” And sometimes, someone will reach out to say they were truly touched by your work. Those moments? They’re golden. But they don’t happen every day. Or even every week.
The reality is this: you’re your biggest fan.
No one is going to care more about your work than you do. When I realized this, it hit hard. At first, it was deflating. Was I destined to spend the rest of my life misunderstood, creating art in my own little world, while the rest of the world glanced at it and moved on? The thought was almost unbearable.
But eventually, I took a step back. I zoomed out.
I pictured my life stretched out on a timeline. I crossed out the first 23 years—the years I’d already lived. Then I looked at the years I had left. Maybe 66 more if I’m lucky enough to reach 90. Sixty-six years of unknowns. Highs, lows, challenges, successes, failures. So, I asked myself, "What do I want to do with this time? How can I make these years count?"
I thought about it deeply. I came to a single, resounding conclusion.
I want to be the best to ever do it. I will be the best to ever do it.
When I internalized that goal, it changed everything. My life started shifting in ways I didn’t expect. Every choice I made became intentional. Every hour of my day mattered.
Because here’s the truth: there are no refunds on life.
You don’t get to rewind and use your potential in a different way. You can’t go back and put in more effort to see what might have happened. You either live each day with that intensity, that fire, or you look back one day and wonder what could have been.
So, I made a choice. I decided to go all in. I was going to live my life with a relentless belief that I could do anything I set out to accomplish. And if I failed? I’d fail knowing I gave it everything. I chose to become my own biggest fan. To support myself with a belief so strong that no outside opinion, no silence from others, and no disappointment could shake it.
It’s not about ego or pride; it’s about conviction. It’s about knowing, deep down, that I am committed to this journey, no matter what. I’m not the best yet, but every day, I work towards that goal. And once I decided that, the validation I had been chasing lost its power over me.
Once you become your number one fan, everything changes.
You stop worrying about how many people liked your last post or whether anyone noticed that new project. You stop caring if people watch from a distance or stay silent. You don’t need their approval to keep going. The only validation you need is from yourself—to look in the mirror and know you’re doing exactly what you promised yourself you would do.
It’s liberating. It frees you to work without fear of judgment, to experiment, and to play. You realize life is a long game, and you’re the one writing the rules. You start thinking less about “What if?” and more about “What’s next?”
When you’re your number one fan, every small victory becomes fuel. You don’t need to wait for someone else to say “good job”—you know it yourself. You become comfortable in your own skin because you know, at the end of the day, you’re doing this for you. Your motivation doesn’t hinge on anyone else. It’s self-sustained, powerful, and unbreakable.
And that is the ultimate freedom.
Imagine your final day. You’re watching your life like a film, from beginning to end. What do you want that story to be? Do you want to see someone who settled, who played it safe, or someone who went all out?
One day, my life will be over, just like yours, just like everyone’s. I hope to look back and see a journey I can be proud of, one filled with relentless pursuit, resilience, and heart. And on my gravestone, I don’t want it to say “he was talented” or “he was kind.” I want it to say, “He was the best to ever do it.”
The choice to believe in yourself, to be your number one fan—that’s where it all begins.