what do you want from writing?

this is a question that’s been stirring my thoughts as my relationship to writing continues to evolve.

at the beginning days of posting on this platform, i thought maybe it could be an entry point into journalism.

and then it evolved into personal essays — reflections on life, wisdom gathered, an attempt to boil down my understandings into digestible pieces.

these days, i don’t have much of an agenda with my writing beyond it feeling true, like an authentic expression of myself.

and in doing so, i guess the added hope is that maybe it could be of service to someone else. but the tricky thing about trying to reach people when you have little to no audience is you don’t have access to the people you’d like to help.

and the tricky thing about trying to get myself in front of the eyes of more people is that it require me to do shit that doesn’t feel authentic.

i think part of me believes this not trying too hard is a coping mechanism, a defense against being vulnerable to rejection.

and ya, i’m sure that’s valid. but honestly, the more i write and the more i think about why i write, the less i feel like it has to do with anyone but me.

previously, i was desperate for validation. for someone to offer me a stamp of approval that confirmed i am in fact a writer.

i wanted to be equal to the real writers out there. the ones getting published in real publications. the ones using big words, descriptive language, and weaving together narratives with mastery.

but i’m gonna be honest, y’all — i’m lazy.

i got a degree in writing long papers with big words, so i can rest easy knowing it’s something i’m moderately capable of.

but these days, i like simple. i like metaphors i don’t have to reach for. words that are overused and resonant. and thoughts that spill out with a simplicity that makes me feel a little bit lighter.

the tricky thing about not trying to be good at this is that the validation is unlikely to come externally. i mean, i can’t fault people for not getting hype-y over a glorified journal entry.

i don’t want to research, edit, link, or take more than 20 minutes to get my thoughts and feelings onto the page.

i just want to exist here for a moment, me and these words. these simple words that i repeat over and over with mild shifts in use.

and there’s something oddly relieving in no longer trying to be great. or even good. because it allows me to exist. and it allows my writing to exist. in a plane that is inherently non-judgemental.

i mean, who judges blog posts, really?

and who even reads these days?

i’ve been reading more and more recently, and every time i read an article, i’m like “wow, how many people actually do this?”

it’s so counter-cultural.

so part of me is also like, why bother putting so much effort into something that’s not even really going to be appreciated?

that may sound a bit reductionist and pessimistic, but it’s how i feel. as someone who reads.

anyway, i’ve lost my point, which means this is where i stop.

so to answer the question, what do i want from writing.. i guess that would be for writing to continue to be my friend, my companion through this world.

and that over time, with each word clicked into existence, i am able to hone some sort of skill that will pay off in some way.

maybe there will be a day when i will have thoughts that stir humanity.

maybe simplicity will work in my favor.

maybe the most complicated ideas can be captured with the simplest of words.

or maybe this is all there will be.

and you know what? i think that’s okay with me. (unintentional rhyme, i swear)