fuck brevity

A friend once told me to consider more brevity for my writings. Fuck that. This is not a business, I am not writing an essay. I am writing to let out my cries that I cannot express physically or verbally, be it because of its impossibility or just the innocent shyness for sharing genuine feelings with others. Most of the people who are in the other category do not care for anything¹. It is not right to share nuanced feelings or thoughts with them. It is only right to follow already established practical protocols. There is a script, if you opt to play in the game, you must stick to the script.

I like to keep these long, convoluted, maybe excessively complicated and imprecise. It is my way of expression. In other words, painting a picture of my inner demons to the outside world, not that I care other people notice it. Fuck recognition. My only desires—or needs—are to get a better view of the scene inside my mınd and to perhaps equip myself with better weapons to challenge it. The non-brevity (I don’t have the precise word for the antonym of brevity on my mind right now) is my means of achieving these goals. Writing might be one of the few things I still enjoy—though I do not and cannot claim to write well. It is a personal corner where I can stop intruders from laying their polluted soap dish-soaked hands on me to scrub my own smell off of me. So, my friend, I thought about what you said, I don’t want it.

Everyone has a complex world within themselves that they hide from strangers because it makes pragmatic sense. Likely, everyone has—or should have—a way to understand and express them. These writings are my one way among others. My way, when I need to escape the others’ growing circles of influence, to sound my scream, to slowly drop my crying tears, to sing with joyful laughter, to sit in mindful meditation… Let me do that freely, free from the fuzzy standards of good writing.

The friend also suggested that I should speak more like I write. Apparently, my way of speech does not allow for fruitful discussions and understandable, well supported arguments. Maybe there is too much brevity there. Actually, I am aware of this, but it happens mostly because I don’t care that much about most things. Most things don’t matter² in most conditions. So, again, it is the influence of pragmatics. Because I think I articulate my thoughts better when we discuss things for real, depending on who accompanies in the we. Still, don’t fuck articulation. It leads to depth and I am trying to work on improving myself on that.