#44 it's not that deep
27 reasons to (not) write
Reasons to not write:
Everything has been written.
There are things happening in the world that have more consequence and importance than the things I write about.
Writings can come across as definitive and conclusive when put out, when they never are.
Though no one ever thinks the worst of me, I feel trapped in my 10-year-old self whose words were picked apart and doubted; a part of me believes that my words will be used against me.
Offering up opportunity to be misunderstood makes me feel vulnerable.
Insecurities of being perceived as emotional, sensitive, neurotic, and indulgent. But then again, I can be emotional, sensitive, neurotic, and indulgent.
“So what?”
Not always, but my writing can feel insufficient, defensive, peripheral, so I self-edit, until there’s nothing left.
Everything that comes before writing and after writing is not solitary, but writing in itself is. I think that, as a whole, is why it feels like something I am called to do, yet makes me feel lonely sometimes.
Reasons to write:
My starting point has never been to want to be original. Yet, I still worry about not saying anything new. That’s missing the point.
I have so much to give.
Everyday living is grounded in passing on stories; it’s how we stay connected through kinship, entertainment, and hope. May we always have the courage to tell them.
To Think Again—both me and you.
It makes me happy.
It is challenging and exciting, it is release, it is fun.
It is what I’ve dreamt of doing, and have always done, since I was a child.
It can make someone feel seen and, better yet, inspire them to do something with that.
Though the process can feel excruciating, it is Practice.
One thing always leads to another. When I write, I get closer to the next thing. There is so much more to come to know, but first I have to write this.
I enjoy seeing thoughts fleshed out in words.
I am able to access and share the most honest and true version of me.
I don’t have to judge whether an idea is good or bad. An idea is an idea, let it be.
It’s me against me.
Finding resonance. Lets me be me. That is enough.
These ideas, in writing, cease to be mere thoughts; they get to live on in other ways.
I wake up and somebody else dies. (The horror and pain keep me from saying anything at all. Nothing really matters. I distract myself. That’s something I am good at.) I better get to writing.
Every time I choose fear, I deny myself. It’s not that deep.
Objectively is about the stories we tell ourselves. Through conversations and observations, I explore why we are the way we are, and the never-ending inquiry into what it means to live a fulfilling life.
Thanks for making me feel seen, and better yet, inspire me to write today ✨