
Some evenings I sit in front of an empty document, and two voices in my head start talking. I think most of us know these two. Today I simply listened to them and wrote it down.
“Writing again? The internet is full already. Millions of new texts every day, lots of them written by machines.”
“True.”
“So? Who’s going to read it?”
“Maybe nobody. Maybe one person.”
“One person. All that effort for one person?”
“I don’t write for the others first. I write to find out what I actually think.”
“You can do that in your head.”
“In my head it goes round in circles. Written down, it stays put. Then I can look at it.”
“And if nobody needs it?”
“Then I needed it anyway.”
“Sounds pretty modest.”
“It is. But imagine: somewhere, someone is sitting up at eleven at night and can’t switch off. They read one sentence and realise: I’m not the only one.”
“One person at eleven at night.”
“That’s enough for me.”
The sceptical voice wants to protect me – from disappointment, from wasted time, from the feeling of talking into the void. The quiet voice doesn’t want to prove anything. It just wants a thought to be allowed to be fully there, for once.
Both belong to me. I don’t have to silence either of them. I only have to decide which one gets the last word today.
Which sentence could have been yours? Every answer fits.
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Three questions to keep thinking. Choose an answer – you will then get an explanation and a prompt for self-reflection.
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