How Writing Became My Prime Directive
Updated: Jan 27
How Writing Became My Prime Directive
I was once told that writing is the most solitary occupation in the world. It seems that when you write so much, the subjective concept of time becomes almost entirely irrelevant. That is while and physical interaction with the world seems almost pointless when you have a computer or a phone.
And, as a writer, one would might even ask themselves, if they like writing so much, why should they bother with traditional publishers? After all, when you become a master at what you do just because you like it and are good at it? To quote John Duran...
Every aspiring writer should realize, traditional publishers seek only profit, nothing else. They have no care for art, integrity or a damned fun story. They simply don't care. They will not honor the original authors, nor our love from their own works. They will change the tale everytime, from black to white, or masterful story to a common tripe, as long as they believe a profit can be made, no original words will be honored or respected regardless of how wondrously and carefully they are crafted.
If this world cares more about profit, luxury and prestige, than about the beauty of a well-crafted article, then why should I bother with catering to such a world?
Nay. I instead prefer to make writing my prime directive, under a deeper, hidden logic: To rectify the world of such silly, corrupt trends that encourage us to be incompetent in exchange for prestige!
Nay! The master is, in one way or another, always alone in his or her craft, sacrificing not only prestige but also their own family, the norms of their culture, and sometimes, even the value of friendship.
Such sacrifice one must have in order to make writing his or her prime directive in this life, in a world that's getting consumed by the corrupting trend of the AI revolution, and the overall shallow-ness of contemporary content...
For some reason, writing is one of the few things I can do regularly with little to no exhaustion, as long as I write what I want. Naturally, I became addicted to it. Articles, poems, messages, posts, and shares... I create because I enjoy influencing this world from the solitude of hermitages. Not for power, not for evil, but for good.
In days where I write so much, and I don't feel any energy overexerted, I begin to inquire myself..
"Do I even need the physical company of others, when all I can have is more and more words for company?"
Sometimes, having apprentices is fun. However, beyond that? I find little reason to communicate with others beyond the necesary evil of society..
How irrational of a writer to even take seriously the notion that he does not need the company of readership... How irrational of me to think that I do not need at least a woman's touch.
Yes, I think I'm addicted to writing. It is the only thing that makes me feel truly meaningful to the world. Otherwise, peace for me is nothing more than a liability!
I stopped going to university because it was too stressful, stopped going to job interviews because I realized how worthwhile the internet is. And I almost never needed a social life. Asociality exists. I do not understand why do I need to waste my time on such institutions when I can instead follow my own passions, as problematic as that may be.
It seems that my loyalty to writing has truly made me a hermit. I only need some breaks here and there to refresh myself. I very rarely need physical contact or meetings. I just need a screen in front of me, and I can dance the waltz that is my socially-barren life all the way to the inevitable death that awaits us all.
Writing philosophy is the only thing I'm honestly proud of. Everything else seems so distracting. As long as I'm awake, there are new possibilities to explore and new ideas to look for or create. It is the only thing that makes me feel accomplished. If I waste a day without a purpose, not even for recharging, that day is gone forever. I find each new day a problem to be solved, not a day to be enjoyed.
My motive for my passionate work is a mental contruct of a certain woman whom I deem my antagonist. She called me irrelevant, so I decided to make it my life's work to prove her otherwise... In my pursuit of of power, I eventually succeeded. I thought it would take far longer. Fortunately I was wrong.
After all the dedication I had for the real her, the world may be unjust, but at least I did my part and am bringing to the world more good. It is far better than seeing her deluded, thinking she was right about me.
Once the mental construct has been proven wrong by reality, it was then that I will bring forth the fact that I am Mr. Tomasio, the article baron. Through my writing, the humans of this world can overcome many adversities, and mentally survive the hardships of a world that turns more and more into the age of cyberpunk.
Piece by piece, post by post, share by share, I will work almost every day, for life is but a task for me in the name of world recitifcation. I will do my best to contribute to the world and thus prove my worth to it, to myself, and to her image's false confidence. It will then be when I can be closer to the possibility of accepting my death.
It is, for the most part, what I often think about... I live to work, not live to feel alive.
A family member almost died, one time, because they needed surgery, which they got. Thinking about them, it could happen to me if I'm not careful. After all, I have a purpose to serve, and that purpose is my contributing addiction, which I can bring to the world as optimally as I should. Many people in around my age range are reckless, while I live as an elderly man would.
I don't care how much I have to walk to spare myself the same risk. I will do it if it means I can write more and more and more! For contribution! For benefit! For the a better world!
I will die anyway, but not until I make every day of my life worthy of the writing "gods"! It is the only thing I can do without succumbing to exhaustion. The only thing I will probably be remembered for in this world.
Not even video games or TV make me this passionate nowadays. I guess I don't care if I don't get to live this life to its fullest, if I don't get to live normally, have a family of my own, or have a traditional work outside my article empire. Following my heart is the only thing that makes me happy.
I have become a slave to my own purpose, and to be honest, it is far better than falling into nihilism and being at risk for existential dread. I've been there before, many times, and unless you're completely apathetic to nihilism, then purpose might one day save you from harm to your general well-being and functioning.
For some, dedicating themselves almost entirely to one's purpose is a very hard, monotonous task that would require them to escape to hedonism. But for me, it's jsut Tuesday.
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