On the Desire to Share with the World

I really couldn't keep a journal until a certain age. Not at all. I didn't understand what it was, why it was needed, what it even meant. Some kind of nonsense - writing down your own thoughts.

Then I just started writing. Exactly the thing I thought was nonsense - that's what I began to do: writing down everything that appeared in my head. At first, these were just short notes about my mood, about how I felt, about plans. A short reflection. Attempts to understand, to comprehend, and to become more aware of myself. It worked great.

Sometimes the desire to write would disappear, then reappear. By the way, before journaling, for some time I was also writing poetry. Same thing there - sometimes I wrote effortlessly, sometimes I didn't write at all and didn't understand what it even was.

I came across my article about weakness. I think that's the only "something" of mine on a specific topic. A few collected theses and thoughts about one thing.

I read it, saw that people had even left likes on it, that someone had highlighted fragments from it. It felt nice. And I thought that right now I have nothing to say again. But it turns out that I do - I am writing, after all.

It seemed interesting to me, this very phenomenon - that sometimes I have something to say, and sometimes absolutely nothing. Very often my head is just empty. I don't see it as either bad or good. Or maybe it's both bad and good at the same time. It sounds paradoxical, but that only makes it more interesting.

I don't have a conclusion about why sometimes I want to share and sometimes I don't. I often say: "I'll do it if I feel like it. If there's desire and opportunity - I'll do it. If not - I won't." Most likely it's the same here. Not a final conclusion, but already quite a solid hypothesis. And where does the mood come from, or why does it disappear? That's a good question. That's just how it turned out in this world.