“Perfectionism” is an excuse used often.

When we have to ask ourselves why we still haven’t put anything out there yet, we say it’s because it’s not good enough. We pander — hesitating to tell our beloved others about what we’re up too. When we keep all of our messy drafts to ourselves. I’m starting to believe, though, that this is a gentle lie. The honest reason we stop ourselves from putting what we create out there is fear. A gnawing fear that what we do simply won’t matter.

And it’s difficult to let go of that feeling without also letting go of your integrity. How can you both care deeply about your work and not care at all about its consequences? It’s paradoxical by nature.

Democritus was a Greek philosopher, who contributed a great amount to the field. One of his hypothesis was about void, particularly in relation to atoms. He wrote that we are merely moving endlessly throughout an infinite void space.

Although this is clearly an oversimplified explanation, and can be looked at as depressing initially, I still think it’s an important concept to meditate on.

It’s too easy to become engulfed in the complexities of modern nihilism and existential crisis. You become overwhelmed to the point of just brushing it off.

It can be a mistake for creative writers to not surround themselves with ancient philosophers and poets as much as they do with their known contemporaries. So much of the origin of Western canon lies there. When we do take note, we then steal. And what we replicate often deviates from the original message, by pruning the uncomfortable and complicated truths.

We push ourselves towards finding the simplest and quickest way to the finish-line.

So, where do we go from here? What’s the message? For now, I don’t know. But I do think there’s meaning—somewhere. When we stumble, we have to remember it means we’re still moving somewhere.

Most people are stumbling. But they try to hide it, mask it. They tell themselves they’re merely perfecting their craft before exposing it to any others.

There’s a sincere sense of vulnerability when you open yourself up to the void. It’s difficult and painful, but it’s also necessary. It’s because of that I’ve decided to publically write, regardless of my fears that there’s no reason to.

Maybe you’ll listen to me, or maybe I’m echoing into an empty cave, it doesn’t really matter. It never did.