Tag: social media

Recently, I’ve been seeing more and more posts—maybe because Threads has neatly wrapped me in its little bubble, from writers, bloggers, poets, and authors grappling with their social media presence. They’re searching, hoping, trying to find an audience, throwing their words out into the world, and getting frustrated when they’re met with silence.

What strikes me most is that many of these people have far more followers than I do (four or five times as many, at least). And yet, their frustration feels so familiar. It makes me wonder.

I often complain about being invisible too. But if I’m honest, I know why I am. I’m not everywhere. I don’t scatter myself across every platform. I’ve tried Medium, Substack, Bluesky, the list goes on. Each time, I realised they weren’t for me. So, I left. Quietly. No dramatic exits or lengthy explanations – just the understanding that those spaces didn’t feel right.

It’s how I left Facebook. It’s how I let go of X (Twitter). It’s how I walked away from LiveJournal, Wattpad, and a handful of other places that have faded into memory.

Would things be different if I were more social? Maybe. But would I still feel like me?

Creating has always come naturally to me. It’s a flow, a rhythm that ebbs and surges but never truly dries up, even when it feels that way. But the weight of constantly performing, of curating myself to be seen, would stifle that natural flow. It’s not the act of creating that would suffer – it’s the joy of it.

And yet, I’m not immune to the chase.

Sometimes, I want an audience. Sometimes, I want more readers, more likes. That dopamine rush, that fleeting moment when the world pays attention? It’s addictive. Of course, I write for myself first and foremost, but let’s not pretend otherwise: when I share something, especially poetry, I want it to be read. I want someone to connect with my words, to resonate with them, to feel seen and understood.

I see all the advice for “growing an audience.” Post this way. Share that way. Be consistent. Be bold. Be everywhere. But here’s my truth: I can’t do those things, not without sacrificing my integrity. If I did, I’d lose my authenticity, the core of who I am as a writer. And that matters to me. Deeply.

At the end of the day, maybe my thoughts don’t matter. Not really. Not in the grand scheme of things. But they matter enough to me that this post has a place on my blog. Because there’s no one in my day-to-day, face-to-face life who would understand these feelings. And so, I write this here, hoping the void isn’t as empty as it sometimes seems.

I’m learning this: it’s less about being everywhere and more about being somewhere. Fully. Genuinely. It might be less glamorous, but it’s also less exhausting.

Flaws, typos, weirdness, and everything in between. This is where I am allowed to be me. Heard or not. A safe place. For me. And for you too.