You’d Know Why You Did It

People almost always expect you to have justifications for what you do. Especially, if you’re someone with a calling that you love and adore.

Still, you’re seen as naïve if your work has no apparent outcomes.

There must be a reason why you do something, right? Doesn’t matter whether it’s a craving for fame or a minor hunger for power.

But to be honest, sometimes it’s damn tough to be cocksure. Claiming that you have practical reasons for why you do something, when you’re genuinely clueless, feels dishonest.

I certainly didn’t know

Writing gave me my humble share of work and appreciation. Though, if you had asked me about why I was doing it when I had begun – then I wouldn’t have had a robust answer.

I still don’t have one.

I struggle to justify to myself a commitment that lacks any tangible value. And yet, writing has sort of been an inseparable part of my existence.

I’ve lived with these words and I have shared more intimacy and vulnerabilities through blank pages than I’ve done by talking to people.

That has taught me a lesson or two

The work that you cherish doing doesn’t always appear practical.

From a general point of view, it can be labeled as useless, since it consumes resources without providing significant outcomes.

But after getting beyond the initial phase, you need not flash your reasons. Because by then either you have enough outcomes – or you don’t care to know why you do it anymore.

At some point luckily, you’ll look back and you’d know why you did it. Until then, you just keep rolling.