I sometimes wonder why I write this. Or why I write anything.
I like to think that I have something meaningful to say. Something worth listening to. Something worth reading. But the thing is I don’t tell people about my writing or indeed that I write at all. Very few people know about this blog or my stories or poems. And to be completely honest, I am loath to tell them. I’m not very good at self-promotion. I’d rather be discovered by chance. A happy accident.
I envy people who are brave. Brave enough to show the world what they are made of. What they think, feel and believe. To expose themselves to the potential ridicule of others and take the risk anyway.
Right now, I’m not even brave enough to put words to a blank page.
I wonder where did my courage go?
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