I am the type of person who still has their diaries from when they were an 11 year-old kid. And I used to think, I write from time to time. But in fact, I have always been writing. Either hard-copy purple diary, or an Instagram post, or password-protected documents saved on my computer. Realizing how it might be an insatiable need for me to write, I thought to myself, why.?
Why is it that I don't (mainly) draw to express what I feel, or dance to the rhythm of my emotions, and instead compulsively try to verbalize what inner turmoil I would be experiencing then?
One reason popped up in my mind. Maybe it stems from one of my life core values that is open communication (in this case with myself), which stems from the need for connection, which stems from a childhood void that was supposed to be filled with motherly (and I guess fatherly) affection? Nah, I get affected by Hollywood entertainment too much to impose Western standards of love upon my Vietnamese-Vietnamese parents.
But now, I am forming an additional reason. Purpose if you will.
I grew up on free Internet content (life help). If it had not been for Mark Manson, James Clear, Seth Godin, a bit of Malcom Gladwell, and many other thought leaders "baiting" people with free advice and tools, I would not have been struggling with nonsensical yet burgeoning thoughts like I have now. And I am proud of them.
So there, I write (more particularly blog) because I want to continue the streak. No I don't wanna be the next James Clear (although I am nearly as bald), I want to continue the streak of free help to people who need it. God knows I needed it - I still and always do. God also knows how much of an idiot I was, so maybe - and I say this with all my endearment: My writing can help the next idiot.
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