The digital heartbreak: Why my portfolio feels like a ghost town
For three years, my whole identity was found in the glow of my screen. I didn’t just want to be a designer, I lived for that moment when a messy idea finally turned into something beautiful. It was a piece of me. When I finished a project, I felt like I had finally found my voice.
But as I stand here ready to graduate in 2026, that spark feels like it’s being put out. The “magic” I spent years trying to learn is being turned into a single button by a machine that doesn’t have a heart. AI doesn’t know what it feels like to be proud of a piece of work, yet it’s taking my place before I even get a chance to start.
The stolen future
I used to dream about my first “real” job. I was excited to start at the bottom, doing the small tasks and learning the ropes. I thought those steps were how I would earn my way into the creative world. Now, those steps are just… gone.
Before I can even wake up in the morning, an AI has already made a hundred versions of the work I’ve dreamed of doing. It hurts to try so hard to be good at something when the world is telling you that a “software update” can do it better. It feels like the ladder I was climbing was cut out from under me, leaving me hanging with nowhere to go.
Efficiency vs. My Soul
People tell me not to worry. They say AI is just a “tool” to do the boring stuff so I can focus on “strategy.”
But I didn’t fall in love with strategy. I fell in love with the feeling of the pen in my hand. I loved the mistakes, the long nights and the human touch that makes art feel real. There is a hollow, heavy feeling in my chest when I see a machine copy my style in seconds. When “perfect” is just a click away, my struggle to be great feels like a waste of time. It feels like I’m racing a car while I’m on a bicycle, and the car is already at the finish line.
A Heartbreaking Choice
I am at a crossroads, and it feels like I’m mourning. Do I spend years and thousands of dollars on a degree that might be useless by the time I’m 20? Or do I give up on my dream and pick something “safe”? It feels like I’m betraying the kid I used to be, the kid who just wanted to create.
Maybe the future isn’t about making things anymore. Maybe I’m just supposed to tell the machines what to do. But if I’m not the one drawing the lines, is it still my passion? Or am I just a middleman for a computer?
Finding a Reason to Stay
Maybe the only way forward is to stop trying to be “perfect” like the machine. If AI is the master of things that are predictable, then I have to be the master of things that are messy, weird, and deeply human.
I’m trying to find a new path in “creative strategy,” focusing on why we care about art, not just how to make it. It’s terrifying to let go of the future I imagined. But if I want to keep my passion alive, I have to find the one thing a machine can never have: the feeling of being alive, of hurting, and of starting over.
