Writing relentlessly in vain

Is there a point to all this? It’s not that I am profoundly disappointed or disinterested in the world or that I doubt the significance of the written word, I only question the relevance of a few jotted and hidden ideas published on pages that never existed. Is this any different to writing for the desk drawer? What if there are ideas that people have to learn about? What if there are valuable words and thoughts that should be shared? What is the reward and what if the light kills all the best intentions? Is it in the writer’s destiny to be ridden, crippled, mutilated by self-doubt? Can true creativity not thrive on something whole and healthy and balanced?

I see pictures of beautiful babies. I read stories of love, revenge, betrayal and the all too often mundane and not at all important. What happens to the stories if nobody reads them? Do they stay stories or become mere words on a piece of virtual paper? So many times the issue of worthlessness comes to a hand. For why do I sit here and write when there’s really nobody who will be affected? But one that sees these words as a matter of life and death cannot deny the process of creation. One who feels that staying alive and breathing can only ever be through creating thin threads of ideas and hanging them out into ether for anyone and everyone to reach it, writing is essential. If there is no way to create, there is no way to live. If there is no way to write, there is no way to stay alive. Nobody cares and nobody will ever read, but to create is to save oneself from eternal darkness, from drowning in a fearful sea.

Even if there is little point, there has to be words written on the page. Even if they say nothing at all they have to be there to keep at least one of us sane and maybe safe. I’ll read it. I’ll love it. I’ll live it. I’ll create the haven from which strands of beauty will grow. I’ll create the wisdom, which will spread its white wings over the lives of others. I will hold down the rain and I will catch the smile of the ever darkness. I will write so you can come and say: what’s the point to all this?