Self-discovery

Today’s blog post was written this morning. It was going to be published after a small revision tonight. I liked it. I think it had a funny and convincing angle and the sentences flowed. But on the bus home from work, while my mind rewrote some lines and sought less common adjectives, I realised it might be misunderstood.

It was about an anecdote I experienced yesterday and involved a person I don’t know well but I like. Possibly, the post would have raised unnecessary tensions although it wasn't offensive. Possibly, it would have changed the way that person looks at me. And listing down a few potential actions and the arrows coming out from them, I wondered about the role of the author, of prioritising living and kindness over the wittiness of the writing, of the status of that thing called oeuvre and, more important, of the type of person I want (and I don’t want) to be.