Sometimes when I write, I think about all of the things that may happen if this post were to go viral.
(Okay, let's be honest. ALL of the time.)
My eyes gleam as I imagine the accolades (!), the recognition (!), the interviews on all of my favorite podcasts (!).
(No lie, it happened while I wrote this article. It was some kind of Jedi mind trick cloaked with the logic that I'm talking about viral-ness not being the point, so it has to go viral.)
This seductive thought is all oiled-up and sneaks in and out of the cracks of my mind. It moves so fast that countless times throughout the day I don’t catch it in time before it sends me into a spiral of comparison.
And if I don’t catch it in time, I start to hold back what I really want to say.
I "tone down" my opinion.
I tell myself things like Ehhh, that’s probably not funny. Delete that. No one will laugh.
If I don’t notice my thoughts in time as I write, I won’t write anything valuable.
It will taste like watered-down Jameson when I've been craving it neat.
Not good enough.
In an attempt to appeal to the masses, my writing ends up becoming the halfheartedly-skimmed article. The one that’s easy to forget about.
No, thank you.
As scary as it is to say what I really think, it’s become a necessity.
It isn’t for the work fame, the 154 retweets or even for the moment when one of my parents sees it and starts to understand what I actually do for a living.
It’s for the space it creates.
And if I ever want to live a life where I am fulfilled and ask for what I want, my first step is to be honest on the page.