I’ll be honest: I hovered over the “publish” button for way too long, wondering if anyone would read what I wrote—and if it would even matter. But as I watched the words land on the screen, something shifted. Maybe it isn’t about who reads it. Maybe it’s about finding my voice—one that can tell my stories, articulate my ideas, and say what I actually think.
Writing is funny that way. It starts out as this quiet, private thing—just you and the blank page—but there’s always a little hope tucked inside that someone out there will hear you. It can feel lonely, dropping words into the silence. But underneath that loneliness is a simple wish: to connect, to reach across the gap between me and you. And somewhere in that process, reflection turns into self-expression.
It’s also a way of pushing back against impermanence. When we put our experiences, our stories, and ideas into words, we anchor them against flux. Even if those words only reach one person—or even just our future selves—they become a voice that endures.
And now, with blogging, we get to do this through self- publishing without waiting for permission. No gatekeepers, no middlemen—just our words, as they are, added to the expanding constellation of voices out there. Who knows? Maybe something I write will be a small light at the edge of someone’s horizon—a glow they didn’t know they were looking for until they found it.
Bart
5 October 2025
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