There is perhaps no truer mark of the insanity of writers than the fact that we are inherently and embarrassingly compelled to express ourselves or display our creativity in writing even when there is no one around to read our carefully chosen, optimistically published words. It’s akin to some poor inebriated sap muttering to himself in a dark and lonesome alley somewhere. Or is that just me?

Photo by Connor Fisher on Unsplash

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