Despite despite despite.
“You won’t amount to anything, really.”
I know, sir.
“You’ve done nothing.”
But I wrote. I observed and wrote.
It was on my thesis defense. Deem me to be softhearted, but maybe this isn’t the perfect time to satisfy the academics yet. And what’s next? Life goes on anyway. Revise, revise, revise. Revise until you graduate. Revise until it’s good enough. Revise until the story is sharper, sharper, better.
I remember when I cried. Over publishing my work online.
I was a shy person back then, I was insecure, but I loved anyway. I loved writing and I love writing.
“But don’t take everything to heart. Your work doesn’t determine your worth.”
I’m an INTJ, and most of my friends know me as the realistic one. The sharp-tongued. The make-it-make-sense. But I think writing should come from the heart.
I love writing. I think most people loves writing. I love writing both in my mother language and in english. I love learning about various languages. There’s an undeniable beauty in every language, and I find myself captivated by the intricate ways words can convey emotions, ideas, and stories.
Writing was almost the only thing that kept me going back then. When life felt a little bit too heavy, or the inner voice got a little too loud, it’s always writing and words that keep the oceans calm. All about the ephemeral, the feelings that stir within us, much like a sourdough, hungry in the morning looking for water, gradually rising until it’s baked into perfection by night. Much like how falling in love in the beginning felt like nothing, but it doesn’t need anything to really fill in the void.
But what if you had goals, as a writer?
This is a question that sits by me every lunch, dinner, waking up and going to sleep. It’s easy to become disheartened in a world that often prioritizes recognition and attention politics. But what’s an artist gonna do, if not be known, be read, and be felt?
A copywriter’s job is to sell things. It’s to lead and spark some emotionally triggering words so that someone will go through that marketing funnel. But in my world, in my personal, personal world outside of all professionalism, I want to be a writer. In which way, in what way? I don’t even know.
Each word I write is just love, poured for the love of language, culture, and the shared human experience. Writing connects me with a lineage of storytellers who have grappled with similar questions of purpose and significance. We are part of a long tradition that values the written word as a tool for reflection, protest, and connection. It’s a chorus of humanity.
Maybe our purpose isn’t to make good stories. Not to make good writings.
Maybe our purpose is just to write. Write, write, write, and never stop.
Because in this loud, loud world, in this never-ending world, there’s always a story waiting to be told.
And it could be yours.
