How is your writing being perceived?
It sounds like a thoughtful question. Well, it isn’t.
It’s irrelevant in ways that are hard to explain but easy to feel.
The moment you ask it, you’ve placed yourself between the writing and the sharing. And now it’s about you.
For what? To be acknowledged? To feel secure? To be certain you're still someone?
These are self-questions. They don’t belong to the writing. They belong to the self that keeps showing up, pretending it has something to protect.
But when that self softens, when it isn’t the center of the page, the question dissolves.
And with it, the need for feedback. The concern about how it lands. The imaginary audience you write toward.
Still, it’s human. It happens. We keep separating ourselves from what we do, even in something as direct as writing.
So, do we fight it? Avoid it? Ignore it? Accept it?
No. We don’t need to do anything. Not even noticing it.
You’re reading this. That’s already enough, for now.
No reminder needed, until there is. No technique needed, until one finds you.