I really should sleep now, because this is making less sense the further on I go

Am I really an artist?

Does passion and creativity really run through my veins, or do I just want it to so badly that I pretend.

What makes a true artist?

Is it someone who's good at what they do, or is it someone who lives and dies for it? Because those two things don't always necessarily go hand in hand.

What if I'm not good.

Is it pointless to keep hanging on to something that will never happen? If I want it so badly and keep pursuing in even if its not good, does that make me stubborn or just sad?

Or what if I give up? Does giving up make me not really an artist? Does that mean I wasn't worthy of the inspiration that I pretended to have?