Why do I write?

I’ve got nothing. That’s why.

It’s a cheap trick to score some claps from you, my readers. It strokes my ego.

Secretly, I wish people would come to know me as humanity’s guiding light.

Just like Elon Musk, I, too, want to help this world.

Elon, however, has done things to help the planet. I haven’t. I do wish to be recognized for my imaginary good works.

To answer my own question, I write in order to hoodwink you into giving me high marks for everything I haven’t accomplished.

I will dazzle you with the extent of my fragmented knowledge. You will be mesmerized by my eloquence on matters of which I have neither the breadth nor the depth of understanding. My choice of big words and the ability to compose elaborate sentences with no substance will be my weapons to behold.


Because I want to do good for the world.


I don’t know.

But I fantasize about leading my people towards wisdom, calmness, peace, cooperation. Sometimes, I wonder if I might be a messiah.

As you can see, I must write or else you won’t know what to clap for.

My self-deprecating humor here was inspired by Cristina Rojas Colloridi’s wonderful though serious story.

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