Some time, a long time ago, I imagined myself becoming a writer. The appeal was in the results of becoming a famous writer, not so much the act of writing. I lived in a world that is beyond my reality, you see. Loving the idea of touching someone’s life and influencing them somehow. However, the result-driven dream was so out of touch with reality that the act of writing was such a dreary task. I just allowed the dream to die, along with the stories I barely started.
Starting this online journaling isn’t much about the appeal of reaching out. No, it’s not for the view counts, not for the visitor counts, not for the fame. Or so I tell myself, anyway. It’s just so I can tell the stories of today, yesterday, or perhaps what tomorrow could be. So that they do not take up too much mental real estate. Also, it would be a shame to let the writing skills I gained dry off now that University is done. By making it public would only force me to think clearly, accept vulnerability and improve.
Now half way through 2021, life becomes more interesting, social and impactful. I’d like to see where this challenge could take me, what perspectives will open up and how will it help keep the self mindful of the present.
