Everyone wants to matter, every writer wants to be read. Every day there are a lot of us that fear we are just nothing. I wonder about that one question if a tree falls in the forest does anyone hear it, does it even matter.
It goes back to the question we ask ourselves when we are are along, do we matter? If I am honest with myself I know the answer is no it doesn’t matter what I write. It doesn’t matter what I give voice to beause it is worhless, it means nothing if I don’t push for it to be read, for it to be given a chance.
In reality, it is noise among so muc other noise that no one will ever see it or care that it was written. There will be a one in a million chance that anyone will ever see these words and an ever greater chance that whatever we say will lead to nothing.
When I think about that story I have yet to write, I know that the odds of it being read by anyone are less than slim to none. I know the odds are greater I will die before I ever get to the point where it will ever matter.
I know that the idea, that the world I’ve crafted is nothing but a dream but that doesn’t mean I should stop trying to give it life. That doesn’t mean I should stop trying to give the world a voice.
The only thing this means is I should try even more. The only thing it means is that I should give every moment writing a chance to breath and be more than just a possibility. I started writing this awhile ago and just forgot about it. I keep on going back to this universe but I haven’t lived in it and that is what I have to do in order to give it depth and breath.
I hope I can write this, I need to make it and I will do it because I can’t not keep on thinking about it.