What’s the Point of Writing?

I wonder when I write if it makes sense to anyone.
I wonder if the words do what I hope.
If anyone understands any of it.

Sometimes I doubt it entirely.
I conclude I’m writing an unbreakable code,
That only I can decipher in the moment I’m writing it down,
And once it leaves my brain, it becomes an intellectual task,
An attempt to put the pieces back together,
To explain the state I was in when the words came out.

Then I think maybe it doesn’t matter what happens,
Maybe whatever I meant is insignificant,
And the reader will inject meaning from her own life.
And momentarily it feels good to mean something,
And to share in something with someone else.
Though quickly I again wonder if that’s enough,
Or anything.

I write to communicate,
Tell the world or anyone who cares what my mind is,
Or what I think it is,
In a specific moment.

I hope someone understands,
Though I can’t see how it’s possible.

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What’s the Point of Writing?

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