Transmission from the Glitchstream – File 005: Writing Like Nobody’s Reading (Because Let’s Be Honest… They Probably Aren’t Yet)
This blog is a ghost town.
Perfect.
More room for me to haunt.
For a long time, I didn’t write because I thought no one was listening.
Then I didn’t write because I was afraid they were.
And now I’m writing because… I need to.
Even if it echoes.
Even if it vanishes into the digital ether like a cursed voicemail on a dead planet.
Even if the only eyes on it are mine—and maybe yours, stranger, lurking like a benevolent specter.
Let’s be real:
Most people aren’t reading blogs anymore.
They’re scrolling. Skimming. Drowning in content, algorithms, and calls to action.
And somewhere along the line, writing stopped being about expression and started being about visibility. About strategy. About branding. About “engagement.”
Barf.
I didn’t start writing to chase metrics.
I wrote because there were too many words inside me and nowhere else for them to go.
So here I am again.
Writing into the void.
Screaming softly in a haunted HTML cathedral.
And you know what?
It feels kind of good.
There’s a strange kind of freedom in irrelevance.
When you stop performing, you start remembering who you were before the spotlight—even if that spotlight only ever existed in your own head.
I don’t need a viral post. I need an outlet.
I don’t need followers. I need flow.
And I don’t need applause. I need honesty—even if I’m the only one reading it back.
This blog isn’t a business plan.
It’s a breadcrumb trail.
A resurrection.
A place to be messy, magical, and painfully real.
I’m not here to “build an audience.”
I’m here to build a bridge back to myself.
So if you’re reading this, cool.
If you’re not, also cool.
Because I’m writing like nobody’s watching.
And that’s how I know it’s real.
⚡️ Final Glitch Before the Portal Closes
This isn’t content. It’s communion.
A ritual typed out in pixels and vulnerability.
And if it haunts you?
Good.
That means it’s working.
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