No One Cares. Create Anyway.
When I started writing down my thoughts, I worried that someone would read them. The purpose of writing and publishing in public was that I wanted people to read them. This conflict raged constantly in my head. I wanted attention. I didn't want questions. But the two come together. If someone pays attention to what you write, they are likely to ask you questions about it.
I wanted people to be curious about my life. But not too nosy. The contradiction grew unbearable, and I gave up on writing. My relationship with writing has been turbulent. Rocky. Off and on. Confusing too. I cared too much about people's verdict on my thoughts. So I kept it to myself most of the time. I started writing fiction. Because I couldn't live without writing.
The craving to write has only intensified with the passing of time. I genuinely feel I was born to write about everything under the sun. I also know I am not that great a writer. I can think of great stories though. So after I ran away from everyone's judgments, I started writing fiction. Which people didn't read. I realised they weren't as curious as I had assumed.
The realisation hurt me initially. I stopped writing again. I was an idiot that way. I used to read great books and compare them with my own unpolished, unedited writing. I was disappointed in myself. I saw no path to improve my craft. The fact that no one wanted to read it further aggravated the injury. I quit writing anything meaningful.
The internet is a funny place. I started reading what other people were writing. On Twitter. On Substack. I realised they weren't as good. I had assumed everyone who writes is good, and that I alone was the mediocre one. Of course that was self-loathing. Like I said, I was an idiot that way.
This exposure to all sorts of writing gave me confidence. I realised none of them read my work anyway. Why bother hiding it. I could literally announce it to the entire world and they would still not read it. I started writing every day. About every thought. And I shared it with strangers online. Many read it. And liked it. None of my close friends read it. Which was expected. And I am fine with it.
How many things have we stopped ourselves from doing because we cared that people were watching us? The people you are close to don't actually give a shit about you. People only care about themselves. How you make them feel. What your existence means to them. Everything about you is understood through their context and their lens. Your worry is futile.
Do whatever you want to do without a worry in the world. Because the world is certainly not thinking about you. This is a heartbreaking but also liberating feeling. Creation requires you to express yourself without fear of judgment. Create. Build. Live.