Sometimes, I wonder if I am shouting into a void. Sometimes, I wonder why I am writing at all. Why do I fill my time with blog posts, journal pages, and stories no one may ever read? I tell myself I write to be remembered, to make my name last through the ages, but will anyone remember me if no one reads it?
I am afraid of people reading my work and disliking it. It has happened many times before. Between contests I have entered and trying to get my short stories published, I have heard everything from ‘this sucks’ (in nicer words), to ‘it was okay’. Nothing special to see here people, move along.
I wish sometimes, only sometimes, that people would either love or hate my stories. No more three star, middle of the road rubbish. Am I good or am I terrible? Humph. Even I know it isn’t that simple.
It is not an either or situation. A line between black and white tiles. It isn’t even a continuum. Writing a story is complicated. There are so many things someone could be good at, and could be terrible at. I could be brilliant and awful all at the same time.
I say I am a perfectionist. I also say I am a procrastinator. Both boil down to not writing when I should be writing, and crying over helpful criticism after avoiding it for days.
I still put myself through this madness of emotion on purpose. By choice, I put myself out there into the world for the few who hear my distant echoes. Thank you, by the way, for listening to my little rambles. I appreciate every reader I have. When one doesn’t have a lot, one is more thankful for the little they do have.
But why would I subject myself to this? Because writing and thinking go hand in hand. In my little world anyway. I write because I like to think. I like to see thoughts and ideas crawl through a page of pen and ink. I love watching an thought unfold through my fingers. When I think I breath in, when I write I breath out.
I like to share my thoughts with others, so I write. I read to learn others thoughts. I have found the most profound thoughts in the strangest places. This exchange of thoughts, ideas, musings, arguments, and profound words are why I love this medium.
Sometimes, often times, I worry that my words muddle the idea I am trying to convey. Still I write, learning to use the best words, the best combinations of words, to explain my thoughts.
Words, little thoughts on a page, are beautiful things. I don’t think I could ever stop writing them.