Since I started writing back in April, I've always been racked by insecurity. Actually, I think back in elementary, I had written stuff, once. But it was never published, and never complete. I don't even remember what it was about now. My teachers had always praised me as a talented writer, with my own unique voice which apparently was a huge compliment. Of course they had issued, phrased delicately, over how maybe some formality would improve the grade. It was an essay after all, not my own personal playground.

I still got good grades for it. That changed when I entered high school. Because free and casual just didn't cut it anymore. Suddenly writing needed a form, lab reports couldn't have fun emojis or creative descriptions, everything had to be strict and standard.

I changed of course. Adapted. But then, sometime last year (earlier this year, in actuality), in the middle of my high school career, I think I just decided to go for it - go for the freedom that can no longer be unleashed upon school assignments. I wrote a couple chapters, obviously inexperienced, and god let me tell you how long it took for me to grasp how tenses work. I drafted two stories, both diving into the fandom of Jujutsu Kaisen because what was it if not my newest obsession?

Now when I look them over, months later, I cringe. Basic mistakes, some I've corrected, others... well.

I find myself going time and time again, benchmarking myself against other authors, kudos versus hits. Usually, I come to the very disheartening realisation that people generally don't really like my work. Each comment I get can feel either like a stab in the heart or a bar of dark chocolate - rich, delicious, comforting. But enough is never enough.

How does kudos work? What makes someone give a kudos? How come some authors can so effortlessly build a relationship with their readers?

How do people in general build relationships? How do people meet someone, once, and instantly click?

I started a story, called Shards of Tomorrow. Which I felt was... inadequate. It uses splintered narrative, short phrases, and whirlwind of a mess - and utterly incomplete. Something I blitzed through without a plan. Yet for some reason, people like it more than they like the re-written version. Or maybe it's because the re-written version is only a single chapter.

Who knows. It's not like I know what's going through the minds of people who read my work.

I know a lot of people say to write for yourself. That writers write for themselves. But I disagree. If it was for myself... These stories have existed in my mind for years. THAT was for myself. Writing- writing is for readers. Why write, if not for someone to read?

This is an exception I suppose. Both and not. Perhaps I'm hoping for someone, anyone, to stumble upon this and reassure, validate my writing skills. Maybe I'm writing this because I need to vent, and what better is there than a work, one among 35 or more, hidden in plain sight, just one more of the vast fraction that people will skim past.

I have a fic, The Guide to Reincarnation by Gojo Kiyomi. It was the second, or the first - I started the first and second basically at once - fic I started writing, and at first the passion was there. At first, I didn't want to post it. I think a part of me knew that the moment I posted it, it would stop being mine.

And it's true.

Every comment, asking about the male lead makes me want to scream. At first it was fine. Gojo's hot, he's iconic, and people love him. But- with the way the story was going, didn't anyone stop and think that shoving him in wouldn't make any sense?! Of course, not all readers are like that, and I love them for it. But sometimes, one little ripple is enough to set my creativity aflame.

As always, my impatience got the better of me, as the niggling refused to concede. I mean, posting has helped. While it has negatively affected my motivation, it has boosted it too. And I think it is because I posted that I improved. In writing.

A lot of my ideas, wild, unfiltered, pour onto my AO3 platform, echoing in the empty abyss. I suppose I have some readers. Inconspicuous subscriptions, quiet ones who do not show up.

But-

I don't know.

I suppose all I need is someone, not my friends, not my teachers, not anyone attached, to tell me that I'm doing well. That I improved, that my writing is good.

Generic comments aren't enough. A single sentence of 'brilliant writing' isn't enough. Maybe because it's generic. Something people drop after every chapter. Of course, it's not all comments. I get some pointing out what I did well, nudging at actual plot points I had included, and those never fail to make my day. Of course the hearts, the extra kudos also shine a light, especially as it shows how they keep track, dropping by the moment I update. But it's different. I suppose the reason I like customised comments so much is because there is proof that they read and they understood, that they took the time to tell me I'm heading in the right track.

Since so far, I haven't actually included anything 'fun', I suppose I will include a little short story.

So, once upon a time, in a world far away, or perhaps right now, in the world around you, microscopic and macroscopic, there lived a little electron.

The electron wasn't alone - no, it never was. It was bound, by birth and existence to something called a nucleus. Day after day, years after years, centuries passed and empires fell, the sad electron remained caged, chained to the nucleus' rhythm.

It couldn't escape, couldn't resist. A force so much stronger than it, rendering it helpless - powerless.

No matter how much it fought, how strongly it resisted, all its efforts proved futile.

But as for whether that was bad... well, the world was a dangerous place, was it not? Especially for one so small. So maybe it was for the best. Though the little electron never saw it that way.

It resented the nucleus, cursing it out day after day.

Eventually, the nucleus grew tired. Who wouldn't, faced time after time again with negativity, dissent. Even the toughest of patience would wear, shells cracking and fracturing under the pressure.

Fine, the nucleus hissed, leave if you want!

The electron gladly took the offer. It fled, never looking back.

But later- maybe seconds, maybe milleniums, it didn't know. Time wasn't really a concept that existed. But- it started to miss the nucleus.

Little things rubbed against it, huge things zoomed past it, and the electron, for the first time in its life, knew fear.

It was too late though, to regret.

The nucleus had long moved on, the universe far to vast for them to ever meet again.

The electron shuddered, curling in on itself.

All alone.

And wow, I didn't expect the same concept to take such a different twist. This was an idea I came up with during chemistry, and I wrote it, somewhere. It's not posted on AO3 though. Maybe I should. But the many original works, and barely any views serve as a severe demotivation. The only thing worse would be many views and zero kudos. Which happened, when I introduced my Gojo Kiyomi fanfic readers to another original work.

Wow, thanks guys.

Sometimes I'm convinced they are there only for Gojo. Which- does things I won't name.