Over the last few years, I’ve managed to carve out a small, oddly-shaped niche for myself in the world of magic. It’s not huge—more like a name tag at a convention—but it’s mine. And like many magicians, I’ve looked up to Tom Mullica, who once said, “Magic will break your heart.” He wasn’t wrong. But here’s the thing: I’m still here. Still gluing the pieces back together, one card trick at a time.

Why? Because it’s not really magic that breaks your heart. It’s the people. Their quirks. Their politics. The behind-the-scenes shuffle that has nothing to do with sleight of hand and everything to do with ego, miscommunication, and sometimes just plain ol’ weirdness.

Now, I’m not here to name names or call out organizations. This isn’t that kind of blog. But let’s just say, I’ve had my share of “Wait, what just happened?” moments. Like being told by a major group to prepare something special for the stage—“Dress like this, arrive at this time, be ready to shine!”—only to be met with locked doors and confused stares when I showed up early and eager. Apparently, I had been quietly uninvited. Ta-da! Now that’s a vanishing act.

Or how about the artwork requests? I get at least 20 a month from folks asking me to illustrate something for them—magicians, groups, events. They love the work… right up until the part where I ask to be compensated. On two occasions I had actual agreements for payment. One fell through because a board somewhere vetoed it after I delivered the work. The other? Well, let’s just say the check is still lost in the mail. Initiate: smile, nod, move along.

There was also a time a major international organization asked me to illustrate portraits of past winners. I was excited—until I was told they didn’t want an American doing the artwork. Flash forward to this year, and another artist was not only celebrated, but selling prints hand over fist. That one stung. But hey, at least I wasn’t jet-lagged and heartbroken abroad, right?

Then there’s the fundraiser. I was promised help. What I got instead were delays, roadblocks, and some really spectacular “requests”. Eventually, I just funded it myself, built it from scratch, and launched it solo. Only to have the same folks who slowed it down show back up with hands outstretched, asking for more freebies. Because why not?

Most recently, I told the next 20 people who asked for art that I could do one—but it would have to be paid work, since I’m deep into my own personal project. The response? Crickets. Well, angry crickets. A few were offended. A few got snippy. But mostly, it just confirmed a hard truth: sometimes people like your work more than they value you.

If this all sounds like a pity party, maybe it is. But it’s also a reality check. I’ve got health issues, big stressors, and more to-dos than hours in the day. I’m tired. Worn down. But I’m still here.

Because despite all of it, I love this art form. I love the people who do it for the right reasons. I love creating, performing, imagining, connecting. And I know that for every awkward, frustrating moment, there’s been at least one beautiful one that reminded me why I started this journey in the first place.

So yeah—magic will break your heart. But maybe, if you’re lucky, it’ll also help you put it back together again. With duct tape. And cheesecake. And probably a squirrel in a cape.