Like a Confident and Unadorned Style.

In my mid-to-late twenties, I desperately wanted to write and vaguely yearned for a writing career.

Around thirty, I released , and surprisingly, my desire to be a writer subsided.

Was it the refreshing feeling of completing a task? More than that, it’s closer to the bland, adult feeling you get when you’ve desperately clung to an ex who left, hitting rock bottom to get them back, only for them to finally contact you, and your feelings have become trivial – you just say ‘I’m fine,’ smile, and wish them happiness.

At the time, I saved the words of those who sent congratulations and love for my small pieces of writing. An acquaintance who had published a book before told me that I could hardly expect to hear opinions about my book from people around me, and that I should be grateful if they even read it.

That’s why these sentiments are truly precious and deeply appreciated.

I’m recording this to reflect on it again and again, and for the writing spirit that might flutter to life once more.

Below are some thoughts I found while searching,

sentiments recorded by complete strangers..🙏🏻