I Want to Stop Writing

I would like to stop writing. It seems too self-important that my thoughts deserve other people’s attention. We’re in a self-obsessed age where we take pictures of ourselves and record our stream of consciousness in podcasts. We build social media profiles to record and share our meals, outfits, opinions, and hobbies. As if this will in some way validate our existence, or preserve it, or make it more meaningful. If one has a good hair day and no one is there to see it, did it happen? Self-obsession is a microscopic vision. Who cares how many people see me or what they think about me? We’re all going to be dead in a few years. Not only will it not matter then, it doesn’t matter now. It’s absolute futility that all these records could possibly stack up to a hill of beans in this crazy world. It’s white noise and pollution – a waste of time both for the creator and the consumer. Instead of futilely trying to validate and perpetuate myself, what would it look like to spend my life for something greater than myself?

I want to stop writing because I want my life, not just my words, to represent what I believe. I can sit in the cool glow of a computer screen and articulate thoughts and tell myself that means something, but I don’t think it does. Action is the substance of life. It’s what defines us. It’s the only question that matters after we’re gone: What did we do with the time we were given? Did we waste it in distraction, self-indulgence, laziness, fear, and a myriad other frivolous sins? Or did we spend it to the last ounce in the cause of everything we believe?

I would like to stop writing just as soon as I’ve sung every note of my song truthfully and have nothing more to say. I want to empty myself of all that is in me so I can finally rest under my own vine and fig tree. But I’m always thinking of new things to say. That’s the nature of life. The writing of books is endless. There’s always more to do, more movies to watch, more places to visit, people to love, and there will never be enough time. 

I want to stop writing because all I ever do is spill my guts out on the page and it doesn’t make a difference, and it doesn’t matter, and it’s just one more messy glob of paint in an already overworked self-portrait. I want to be like Kate Moss: no interviews, no memoirs, no unasked-for oversharing. Only my life and my work to speak to who I am. But of course, this is the same self-concern. It may be disguised as humility, but it’s still an obsession with image and legacy. 

The truth is, I can’t stop writing. It’s how I process thoughts and emotions, it’s how I keep from going crazy, and at times it’s how I go crazy. But maybe I’ll stop sharing what I write. If I ever do, you’ll know it’s because I’m in a better place – one where I don’t have anything more to prove or justify. The place we’re all trying to get to, where we are free.

J.

July 12, 2023