You may have caught on by now to the fact that I enjoy writing. Writing makes me feel good and since I write how I speak, it comes fairly easy to me (see: I don’t stop talking generally ever). While I hope that my public writing is interesting at least half of the time and I want people to enjoy it – I don’t write for other people. I write for myself. I write because it is fun and cathartic.
Every time I write I learn more about myself and how I see a moment or the day or the world. I write because I want to and because if I didn’t I would probably explode and/or never stop talking when in the presence of another human being. So really, it’s beneficial to all involved that I write.
In the past 24 hours, I have received two compliments on my writing within a specific other space (not here, *gasp* I know) that I thoroughly enjoy getting my thoughts out. Both of these were from strangers. One of said compliments may lead to something very awesome that is top secret right now but encourages smiles and glee from me to be sure.
I write about my life and my experiences. I write about my feelings. When someone says they enjoy the way I write or a particular piece I wrote, it’s a compliment that makes me feel so good that I really don’t have any words for it, just a big cheesy grin.
I like when people like me.
I love when people like my words.
So maybe all of this writing isn’t entirely in vain and maybe sometimes things I write are interesting. Maybe this year I’m growing even more as a writer and that’s more than I expected to get out of this journey already.
Maybe I should keep writing things because sometimes it’s not half bad.
On days like today when I’m tired, have a headache, and feel a little nauseous, it’s sort of interesting and entirely uplifting to realize how much another person’s words can affect me when they relate to my own words.