It's been a long while, about a month since, but I still remember that anon who practically said I was mentally retarded for various things.
First, that guy can go screw himself. Second, I thought about it for a while and felt a lot of things, such as doubt, lots of it about how I portrayed myself and what I really wanted to show the world. I tried to accept and deny potential uncomfortable truths, wondering if it was the truth at all. But now I don't think any of it matters.
When you're an artist, you can make things people like and don't bat an eye or don't like and it makes them say that kind of shit to you. You can't satisfy everyone and you'll have thousands of doubtful moments, not just when someone shits on your art and, either by extension or explicitly, you.
It's not easy to be an artist, but it's worth a damn. I know who I am, even when other people don't, and that's fine by me.
Here's a piece I'm currently working on. I want it to be dark and damp, like a dive bar at night because that's where it's set. I'm getting there.