CURIOSITY OVERWHELMS
August 8th, 2024 | San Francisco, CA
I find the proclivity toward assigning “meaning” encroaching upon my writing yet again. As if all needs have “meaning" or “purpose”. But deep down I know better. I write because I must. It is no longer a matter of “why” or “what for”.
Such base reasons and justifications no longer apply. Yet, I often ask myself what’s it all for? Who will read this and find value in it? This begets a sort of… need. To classify and categorize my writing… To make it more cohesive to those who would delve into the rawness of my innermost thoughts. My mind. To make it more… palatable.
A part of me sees the practical need for this, but the writer in me chafes at the reason behind such an act. An almost bending of the knee to the gods of commerciality and convenience. I am. At once, terrified of how the world will view me and excited by it, what will they say? What will they think? Curiosity overwhelms.
