When I write

When I write, I wish to convey my thoughts to you the reader. At the same time, I wish to sound profound—at least to my imagined readers— I am sure of very little but I am reasonable sure of the low reading of my posts here. That hampers my ability to write leading to a dreadful inertia that is worse than any failure I could experience. Inertia is the worst feeling you can have. It leads to self hate. It leads to self loathing more accurately as the mind learns not to trust itself for action.

When I write, I read the words out to myself. I am reading these very words out to my self right now. For example, I read out the last sentence to myself but didn’t know how to finish the idea that I was trying to convey— What was I trying to convey? Noticing the slight flash of dread at the idea that I might have to scrap this paragraph as it doesn’t lead to anything. I decide to keep it as it shows my thinking process.

When I write, scrap that why do I write. I don’t write out of any feelings of debt to the reader. I don’t write out of any ideas that it may lead to some marvellous and radical self-improvement. Nor do I write pages of gratitude and ritualize my sincerity. I don’t pack it cleanly make it algorithmically efficient. In fact, I let it out as it comes not forcing but rather acknowledging as it comes. With all its ugly creases and truthful smiles.