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The demons that plague me
And why I need to write despite them.
It’s happened dozens of times: I tote my laptop to a nearby cafe, get a steaming cup of coffee, and poise my fingers over the keyboard, ready to give creative form to what’s in my head.
And the demons that plague me arise.
This is not new, it’s been said before
Nothing under the sun is, really. And yet, the question I ask myself is — should I push this out there, knowing that there’s nothing new, knowing that perhaps countless other have said it, and said it better, in so many ways.
The answer should almost always be yes. It’s original, because it’s you. By definition, it’s your experiences — that happen to no one else, and can be replicated nowhere. Give your voice to your experiences, and surely they’ll strike a chord somewhere, and give rise to other expressions. Of such individual strands is the whole tapestry made.
This is my rant, it’s useless to anyone else
I think I’ve grown to vanquish this particular breed of demon more and more. There’s so much value in just listening to another perspective, a different viewpoint, and perhaps even the same experience : just happening to someone else. If what you have to say can at first resonate with someone…
