I have a tumblr, and there are a few celebrities I follow.
Not the stereotypical celebrities just because they're famous, but ones whose art forms I enjoy, and also seem to have personalities I can respect. (You know, normal human beings. Those people that see they're people and embrace it. I like these kinds of people.)
There are a few I follow on Twitter and Instagram as well, and one thing I've noticed is how they'll say something completely normal, and people will freak out on it. It won't be anything remotely profound, but it'll have thousands of reblogs/hearts/retweets/favorites/etc.
Sometimes I'll look back on my feed from my perspective social media sites and notice that I say similar things, and no one cares.
So why do I still say them?
If there's no one who follows my blog, why do I continue to post?
If there's no one who sees my Tumblr posts, why do I put them there?
If there's no one who reads my tweets, why do I try so hard to fit it perfectly into 140 characters?
Because I don't write or post for other people.
I write and post for me.
If other people get something out of it, that's an added bonus.
Sure, I'd love to inspire hundreds or thousands or whatever.
I'd love to know that some little thought I had had an impact on strangers.
I would love to see that my life inspired people, that someone out there related to something I felt.
That they felt it, too.
I've often wondered if sometimes these famous people feel empty from the attention received from these posts; if it's exhausting to have people comment things that are completely irrelevant and beside the point.
I wonder if it makes them feel good to see all the feedback.
If they scan through the pointless and smile at the comments that are proof of that connection; If they risk seeing all the irrelevant just to know that someone out there related to what they felt.
Recently I posted a picture on tumblr that I was rather confident would appeal to a certain group of people.
Tagged accordingly, I figured it would make it's rounds and get a bit of attention.
And it did, and I see my dashboard filled with names I don't recognize liking and reblogging this post.
but then there's something I didn't expect to see.
I see these names of people I don't know reblogging older posts.
Some are pictures I had found and reblogged as well.
Some are random thoughts I had that no one seemed to blink an eye at.
Posts I almost deleted, because I thought they were irrelevant.
Times I thought, "maybe I should just keep these thoughts to myself. Ya know, only post what's expected."
But I left them.
And these strangers connected to it.
They felt something, something similar to what I felt when I wrote it.
That is the greatest hope for a writer; for someone who lets themselves be vulnerable.
To know that the risk you took in that moment made a difference to someone else, even if it was only for a moment.
Our lives are made up of a bunch of little moments. Like little tiny building blocks that make up our lives and who we are. These kind of moments you collect can determine whether your life leaves you feeling happy or sad or angry or hopeless.
Don't get me wrong, sometimes we all feel those things. All of them.
But in those moments, what do you turn to? What fills those moments? What do you put in front of your eyes and what fills your ears to make you get through the moments?
Life isn't perfect; it never will be.
But you have a choice.
You can fill it according to what you think people want to see; what's expected.
Or you can fill it with what makes you feel something.
Feel the pain, cry, let it out.
I've spent hours and hours trying to figure out what it is about those days that I desperately want to pass when I'm in them that also makes me long for them when they're over.
They make me feel alive.
Even if I feel so lost, and alone, and hopeless.
I feel.
Those moments I remind myself of who I am and why. I collect the little moments that make me feel an inner peace and I build on them.
If I feel this thing, and someone else relates to what I feel, then it's worth it.
It's like reaching through to this person I don't even know and holding their hand; reaching out support to them to let them know, "hey, you're not alone."
To me, that is a powerful thing.
I feel like there's more to say, and I could keep rambling to try and get it out, but I think my point was made. At least, the best it can be. Sometimes words just aren't enough.
<3 p="">
No comments:
Post a Comment