1:57 PM
Unknown
You know of other writers through browsing pages, asking search engines, and clicking share links. You read their posts and then the replies. What you felt after a good read, admiration.
You seek.
Knowing full well you're not on their level, you still try. When asked, you'd tell there's no reason, but you know there's a backstory. Subconsciously or not, you wish for that same feeling be directed to you. You say you only write for yourself, without a laudable objective. But you write them online anyway.
You expect.
There are stats to look at, but you'd install other counters anyways, saying it'd be fun to see. You write and stack a lot of drafts, but then you see numbers. So you publish even unfinished posts. Then you prepare explanations.
You fear.
As much as you have stories to tell, there'd be more questions to answer. You check over and over again, then begin to worry about trivial mistakes. You revise, rewrite, reconstruct everything until you're satisfied, or maybe, have given up on it. Then you start to attach disclaimers on every single post. You didn't want anyone to misunderstand, you say.
You remember.
From reading another of those posts you admire, you remember how you felt. You realized you never thought about what was on that author's mind, writing that piece of work. Did that writer, like you, have had this feelings you're having? There were no disclaimers, or even text to wrap up the article, but still you thought it was good.
You question.
What does it take to write something of that level? You envy his audience and skill. But if you only end up trying to become someone else, just stop it. What were you writing for anyway? Stop writing while being unsure of yourself. It's called being halfhearted.
Even with explanations, they'd appear as nonsense, written by an unsure mind.
Posted in: ramblings,reminders for myself
