For the first time in my life, I feel like I did something good. And I don’t even know why.
This feeling almost makes me want to cry. It actually already has, in fact, for a slight moment, during my complete and whole awareness of the moment and allowance of myself to accept it.
Let’s just say that I was recently tasked with the responsibility of writing a letter. This letter would determine how a friend of mine would go on with their life.
Considering that I wrote the letter in one night while I was half-asleep, I was surprised to hear that my letter was all someone of authority needed to determine an outcome.
I feel that I did something good for the first time in my life. Ever. Honestly. And I was so perplexed as to why this feeling was consuming me. How new and unfamiliar this feeling was to me. “Why mine? What was so great about my letter?”
And then I realized that, when it comes to writing, it isn’t just about being experienced or knowing how to write well or any of that jazz.
It’s about knowing how to write what you feel. About being able to effectively express what you know. It’s about bringing the reader into an experience of feeling what you are feeling–of getting into your head for a moment–to know what you know and feel what you feel.
Of course the letter was every bit professional/personal as I could make it, and I was careful to include only what mattered in just a page. But, I realized something:
You can go on and on about experiences and accomplishments, but all anyone wants to know is who the person is besides who they are to everyone else.
And I learned that what you have to say can actually change someone’s life. Literally. And not in the sense that it inspires or motivates–but that it actively has an effect on how they are going to live out their life.
That’s a crazy feeling to wrap your head around. And that’s why I feel like I did something good for the first time in my life. Honestly. Because my words had that much of an effect on something… on someone’s life.
I feel like I saved someone’s life. That’s why I wanted to cry.