A couple staggered comments revealed my writings to be of use. But when I scroll through everything I made, I don’t see the value.
Value in the sense of things changing. Experiences gained. To be an actor in the world rather a playwright in a cell. To ask yourself, Do these words actually affect the world around me or is it just clenching fists around bars and shaking uselessly? To ask, Ah, you clench your fists uselessly too? I see.
Some bout of intuition told me to open this, just for a moment. Who knows. Just thought I’d try this out once more. Under this pseudonym. What it was. For how long? I don’t know.
But it’s about value. What value does this place produce and why? Is there actually any merit to writing things out?
You may have dreams and you may have opinions but they’re without much value. You may have friends and you may have correspondents but they’re not going to be with you much longer. And you may think yourself a part of something only to find it crumbling with your entrance.
If I had to put a word on what value my site ever was, it would be struggle. It was pain. It was struggle and pain. For free, on display. A trivial way to put it, but a commodity nevertheless. We’re just trading pain here.
What next will we trade with one another? Little use in cutting off your arm or holding your hand.
Feral is what we originally were, and feral is what we’ll continue be. And I’m not sure why it took me so long to realize that.
Let the games begin!
EDIT
If I ever had to put a label on this site, it was seeking and giving love.