A Tired Echo

I was going to write a blog post. But then I stopped believing that anyone was listening.

The way the world works now, people choose to read click-bait articles on websites full of spam and so many ads that the pages lag. They're written by semi-literate Internet trolls that companies hire because their writing style is relatable to the common people. There is absolutely no depth, next to no consideration or original thought, and nearly no truth to be found in the things people choose to read now.

It's easy. Accessible. What the people want.

And how am I supposed to compete with that?

I'm the kind of person who happens to believe that "all truth may be circumscribed into one great whole." I'm the kind of person who can almost never give you a short explanation to anything, because in my mind everything is connected to everything else. The truth is simple, but it's precise, and I always feel the need to explain the precision of it. Stories are, by their nature, long and involved. Short stories are just tiny fragments of a longer story.

And... I've already gone past your attention span, haven't I.

*Sigh.*

Yeah, I think I'm going on hiatus again. It's hard to say whether my problem is a lack of confidence in myself, or if it's a lack of confidence in my reader(s), but something is missing, and I don't feel like writing anymore. Maybe I'll write another blog post the next time inspiration strikes, or the next time I feel like talking to myself in public.

If by some bizarre chance you are reading this, I hope you are doing well, and that you have a good day. I may not feel like saying anything anymore, but I'll be cheering you on from... (from where? The sidelines? The background? Backstage? From over here? From over there? From somewhere in the aether?) I don't know. From somewhere.

Be well. Dios esté contigo, hasta la próxima.

- TAB III