Starting Anew

I write because someone must. So many people already do, sure, but not someone who has the same background as me. So, it’s like… I’m not trying to have any lasting monument that outlives me, no. It’s about wanting to be a good ancestor.

Now, I can’t for the life of me remember where I heard this thought, but it struck me as being profound that I am writing, creating works to tell others that come after me, look here was one very much like yourself who (maybe) did not make much of a great mark on the larger world, but at least they were here and they lived, and in that same light you can live too, hopefully a more meaningful and truthful life than that which came before.

At the same time, for the generations after me, if they still exist, I’m sorry the world is such a bad place for you.

I’m starting out bleak, yes, unfortunately a lot of the world is. But it’s about erecting beacons in the night, not the absolute negation of the darkness, but to be heralds of a modicum of hope, like so many others out there, but somewhere on this side of the world. Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur, the peninsular, here. Here. Here.

I was here.

That sort of thing.

Well, of course, I’m not dead now. That would be some kind of feat if I were. But being a writer, to me, is less about myself now. It’s more about the ones who want to read. It’s the only noble service I can muster up in my strange life.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for continuing to read.