Being a designer means living in a world where everything is both a problem and a possibility. I can’t look at a badly spaced menu without wanting to fix it. I can’t walk past a billboard without imagining three better layouts. And I definitely can’t open Instagram without mentally redesigning half the ads I see. It’s a blessing and a curse—but mostly, it’s the quiet thrill of knowing I see the world a little differently.
My day usually starts with sketches—not perfect ones, just messy shapes and arrows that only make sense to me. Before the emails, before the client calls, before the Slack notifications explode, I need that little window to create without rules. Some days it leads to something great; other days it ends up in my digital graveyard of “ideas that might work someday.” Designers all have one of those.
Work officially begins when the feedback starts rolling in. “Make it pop more,” “Try a cleaner vibe,” “Something isn’t clicking but I don’t know what,” “Can we make the logo bigger?” I’ve learned that half of design is translation—turning vague comments into concrete solutions. And weirdly, I enjoy that challenge. There’s something satisfying about pulling clarity out of chaos.
But the real magic happens in the in-between moments. The random color palette I discover while editing a photo. The layout idea that appears while watching a movie. The typography inspiration that comes from the label on my lunch. Creativity isn’t contained to software—it slips into everything.
Of course, the job isn’t all aesthetics and inspiration. There are revisions that stretch until midnight, deadlines that get tighter every hour, and projects that drain you until you swear you’ll never open Figma again. But then you see your work live—a website layout, an app screen, a poster in the real world—and suddenly the exhaustion feels worth it.
Being a designer means constantly learning, constantly noticing, constantly caring about details most people never see. And honestly, that’s what makes it beautiful.
Design isn’t just my profession.
It’s the way I understand the world.