Why I write

Created on September 17, 2025

One night I dreamed I was dead.

The strange part? I accepted it almost immediately. No panic, no sorrow. I just roamed around, watching everyone.

I watched the people who had gathered. A few looked sad. Even fewer seemed to mourn. It didn’t shock me. I’ve never been the most empathetic soul, so why expect others to grief?

I leaned in, listening. Most were talking about cricket scores, politics, their everyday troubles. Life hadn’t paused. It simply went on, untouched by my absence.

Then I found a small group speaking about me. They were trying to piece together the kind of person I was. But as their words reached me, I realized they weren’t describing me at all. Their version of me felt like a blurry sketch, missing the colors, the depth of who I really am.

I wandered on, searching for someone, anyone, who might recognize the real me. No one did.

And then I woke up. Drenched in sweat. Heart racing. Shaken.

Why was I so afraid?

It wasn’t death itself that terrified me. It was the thought that if I died right now, everything inside me… my thoughts, my stories, the way I see the world, would just disappear. My inner world would blink out and no one would notice the missing piece because they never knew it existed.

Don’t get me wrong. I have been very authentic with the people around me. It isn’t like I carry a facade. But some of the stories and thoughts of mine, I have never really shared with anyone.

Not because they’re secret or too personal, but because I have realised that people really don’t care. We are all selfish and that is just human nature, nothing wrong with it.

Even when I have shared pieces of myself, I’ve often seen the blank look usually turning into a misunderstanding. People in general just aren’t interested in deep thoughts. And so I stopped forcing it. Why shout into deaf ears?

That night though, I realized something. If I don’t speak, if I don’t write, my truest self might die unheard.

And that’s why I created this blog.

Here, I can leave fragments of who I truly am, my deepest thoughts, my questions, my strange worldview. No one is forced to read them. But those who do will be here because they want to be, because something in these words speaks to them.

Maybe no one will ever read this. Maybe my thoughts will still vanish into the void along with me.

But at least I will have tried.