I’m not a good writer, but I write anyways

Summary

The author, despite acknowledging their imperfect writing skills, persists in writing as a form of personal expression and connection.

Abstract

The author admits to not being a proficient writer, with occasional grammatical errors and unconventional punctuation, influenced by speaking two languages. They view their disregard for writing rules as a form of liberation and personal rebellion. Writing serves as a safer alternative to sharing stories in person, offering control over when to engage or disengage with the audience. The author is not deterred by the possibility of readers losing interest and leaving, emphasizing a desire to be heard and understood.

Opinions

The author sees writing as an act of freedom, breaking away from the constraints of strict grammar and punctuation rules.
Writing is a courageous act for the author, who fears direct personal storytelling but finds a voice through the written word.
There is no embarrassment or hesitation in the author's willingness to be vulnerable, acknowledging that readers may choose to leave at any moment.
The act of writing is compared to playing a long-forgotten musical score, suggesting a deep personal connection and nostalgia associated with the process of writing.

I’m not a good writer, but I write anyways

I’m not a good writer but I write anyways.

My grammar is loose and sometimes (often) I? use — punctuation; wrong.

Sometimes my words are jumbled and the order wrong.

(I speak two languages so naturally I speak neither well)

I break rules as a small act of freedom. As if breaking the rules of communication is my bravest rebellion against the world.

We all start somewhere, right?

I write to share my stories because I am too afraid to share them in person.

In writing, you get to choose when to listen when to exit.

I am not embarrassed if you choose to click away this precise moment.

I write because I want to be heard.

I’m not a good writer, but I write anyways

F#

You’ve rustled through the long-forgotten score, fingertips brushing over the ink, reminiscing that sweet melody.