Why I don’t write

This week’s challenge has us explaining the reasons as to why we write. Well, since I almost never write, I thought I’d change the title to explain those reasons. So, here it goes.

The main reason I don’t write is fear. And stupidity. Those are the two reasons that keep me from fulfilling my dreams. Let me elaborate further. You see, I’ve always liked reading, more so, I’ve always liked stories. It doesn’t matter if I consume stories in video games, books, movies, whatever; I love a good story. A few years back, I got the idea that maybe I ought to craft my own stories, maybe I should try and make people feel the way that good stories make me feel, and I tried it. Sporadically, a few times a year, I’ll write something, and I’ll like it and actually think it’s not that bad, but when I try to make a habit out of it, I’m seized by a crippling fear that blocks everything and doesn’t let me continue.

It’s the fear of failure, the fear that this thing that I’ve longed for so much, will be out of my reach. The fear that I will never be good enough at the one true thing that I like, that I’m forever condemned to spend my life working a job I don’t like and living a life not worth living. It’s the fact that me, someone whose native language is obviously not english (as you’ve probably inferred by now) would try to become successful with it. It’s the fear that maybe one day I’ll try it, even for a long time, only to come to the realization that I just don’t cut it, and that would kill me. I’m not saying this lightly, that would suck the life out of me, deprive me of any reason to live.

You’re probably thinking that this is a stupid train of thought, and you’re absolutely right, that’s why I said that the other reason I don’t write is stupidity. It’s downright stupid to think that I’m not writing because I’m terrified I won’t be good at it, yet I’ll never know if I’m good at it if I don’t write. It’s a vicious circle that’s slowly chipping away at my very soul, and yet it’s the way I’ve been thinking for the last 10 years. As time goes by I keep reassuring myself that next week, next month, next year, next whatever will be the time when I finally start writing, yet my mindset never changes and I just get older and unhappíer.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to make you feel sorry for me. In any case, you should probably find this laughable; it seems like such a stupid problem with such an easy solution, and I totally agree that I’m solely the one to blame, yet I can’t change. It is what it is.

That’s basically it. I don’t have anything more to add, I can’t reach the 1000 word minimum because that would be me just repeating the same excuses over and over, like I do everyday. I hope that someone who is in a similar situation as mine can get something out of this essay, maybe some sort of motivation after realizing just how stupid this is, maybe they’ll be moved to write a flash fiction challenge or a short story; I sincerely hope that happens to someone.

Thanks for reading, and please excuse any mistakes I’ve made while writing this, like I said, english isn’t my native language but I triple-checked everything and I hope this is somewhat understandable.

Take care.


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