wish i

The thing is, I can't write just for myself. That's not the point. The point is to write for recognition.
Or money.
I wouldn't mind writing for money, except that I doubt anything I write will sell.
It's all this doubt, see? and there's the thought that everyone's a writer, and everyone's a poet, and where will you be in a sea that vast, and who will read you anyway? there are no issues you can write about because you have seen nothing and you know nothing. You have no traumas, no miseries, no grand fantasies to bring to your at, so what precisely is the worth of you?

I wish I could write letters.
Real ones, full of stories and gossip; newsy breezy epistles from me to people far away whom I miss and love and want to hold on to. Instant communication, and where has the mystery gone? I don't receive replies to my little sentences (sentences?) anyhow; people just hang around hoping I'll show up. Is it really that simple to write off?
Perhaps not.
Funnily enough, the people who probably would reply to letters I don't particularly feel like writing to. Person, I mean.
*sigh*