Frank M. Anderson's Writing

Radical Honesty at 2 A.M.: The Sensitive Asshole Theory of Writing

—

by

Videosta
in

This is not the sort of thing people talk about.
But I promised myself this space would be real. So here it is.

I inherited some quirks from my birth mother. She has Crohn’s disease—I don’t, thankfully—but I did inherit a few little joys of my own.
And one of them is… a particularly high-maintenance digestive situation.

It’s not life-threatening. It’s not even dramatic.
But it is daily. Quiet. Invasive. Invisible.
It requires attention and care, or things get rough—fast.

And honestly?
That’s exactly what being a writer feels like.

Writing Feels Like Having a Body That Overreacts

Not because I want to be aggrandized or applauded.
But because there’s this low, persistent ache that never fully goes away.
Even when people do read the words, even when they like them, there’s a part of me that still feels a little… unseen.

Every post is an itch I can’t scratch.
A quiet flare-up of that core question:
“Did this reach anyone? Did it mean anything?”

I’ve Been Showing Up Anyway

This past week, I didn’t just post. I opened a vein.
I shared dark, personal, tangled essays. I hit publish again and again.

Here’s what came back:

  • 153 views from 108 visitors yesterday
  • 67 likes across the blog
  • “On Suicide” got 23 views.
  • “Not a Brand. Just a Person.” got 13.
  • Visitors came from the U.S., U.K., Pakistan, Ireland, Nigeria, Canada, and beyond.

It’s not bad. It’s actually something.
But I posted a lot to get there.
I emptied myself out online, and now I’m sitting in the quiet wondering:

Am I overambitious… or just lonely?
Is this the cost of wanting more than numbers? Of needing something that can’t be measured in views or likes?

I don’t need a pat on the head.
I need a sign that someone out there felt it.

So Here’s the Ask:

If you’re here—if you’ve read this far—don’t just nod in silence.
Don’t just click away or bookmark me for later.

Say something.
Leave a comment. Send a DM. Share the post with your own thoughts. Hell, even drop an emoji that tells me you saw it.

More than anything, I’m trying to build a room here—not a spotlight.
And rooms are only real when someone talks back.

You in?

Comments

Leave a comment