Words have always been sacred to me. They have always been enough. I don’t need all the splash and filter. I just want something real and pure, to read something that isn’t trying to go viral. I want to get a shift of insight, to be delighted, to go inside the mind of someone and think, “Wow, how lovely their brain is.” Writing is sacred. It’s important. It’s vital. And it doesn’t need more than this. It stands on its own. In a world obsessed with image, what a revolution to just say: here are my words in black and white, take it or leave it.
I want my Substack to feel like a sacred place, where I and my subscribers can have a respite from the noise. I still do that on my Instagram, but it feels like my longer-form thoughts don’t have a place there, like I always need to condense them, make them prettier, add music, make them more appealing. It feels like on every social platform, the words are never enough. But here, I want the words to be enough. To not need to have a perfect picture to make people stop scrolling, or get it onto a Reel, or limit the caption or figure out a hashtag. But just write. And value my own words again, just as they are. Because they are enough.
