I haven’t really written in a while. Well, I write for school all the time, but that’s not what I mean. I mean, really written, just for me. Not an article for class, or an essay, but something that I can make and be proud of just for the sake of making it and feeling proud of myself.
I wrote a thing, recently, which I am proud of, but it was for school. I might post it as my next post, because yeah, pride and all that.
But anyways, all of this got me thinking about why I like writing so much, why I’ve always liked it. Objectively, it doesn’t really matter. It’s not as though anyone really reads what I write. Maybe I’ll send it to a few friends, or post it on tumblr, but it’s not as though it has some sort of profound impact on anything, really.
Some people, I suppose, would say that that’s the beauty of writing. That you can do it just for yourself. I’m not sure I feel that way, though. When I do something I’m proud of, I want to share it with people. If I’m perfectly honest with myself (which I usually am) I think that’s because I want to validate myself to others; to prove that I’m worth something, that I can do something well. That’s why I posted the last thing I wrote on tumblr. That’s why I share the things I do, the things I make.
So why do I write? I suspect it’s because writing is creation, and I like the idea of putting something new into the world, even if nobody sees it. I like the idea that something exists because of me. Maybe that’s selfish, I don’t know, but I think it’s the truth.
And maybe that’s why I prefer writing creatively, because that way it feels more like I’m putting something new into the world.