Postscript

“There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.” — Ernst Hemmingway

I do not write to create a product for commercial consumption. I simply cannot do the generic cookie cutter stuff, drink the kool aid and proceed to engage in mass marketing for all the wrong reasons. My writing is not a means to an end. It is an end in itself. Organic growth, if it ever does manifest, is the only acceptable route.

Writing for me is a form of therapy. There is a cathartic quality to the act of parsing out one’s thoughts on paper to see them, more objectively, for what they really are. My modus operandi (or at least the values to which I aspire) is truthfulness and authenticity. Such writing demands a raw vulnerability, the kind of vulnerability one only feels in one’s intimate moments of nakedness. For maybe if I can master such authenticity through my writing, it will carry over into my very nature and character.

Language and words are powerful. And here is why. We are fortunate enough that our society and culture has evolved to the point whereby we use verbal (rather than physical) warfare as a means to resolving everyday disputes, at least when we apply our reason and refrain from primitive impulses. And thank God for that. This means that if one can equip themselves with the linguistic armoury to navigate such waters, one becomes powerful by virtue of one’s articulation and coherence.

So this is why I write. To reveal my true self and to chip away at any remaining elements of my persona. Perhaps — if I may flirt with such audacity — to even revivify the divine aspects of my Being. The nuanced feedback conveyed to me by a diverse range of individuals has filled me with a existential warmth, satisfaction and meaning that is literally incomparable to any number of likes, views or shares.

Thanks for reading.

The Ithaca Diaries