They watch you from the sidelines. Soaking in your blog posts. Studying your every move in social media. They’re quiet about it – no one wants to seem like a weird stalker-type except maybe, weird stalker-types. You’ve made a difference though. No matter how big or small you believe your influence is, you’ve mattered.
You encouraged them when they were dragging feet, barely making it through another brain numbing work day of dull meetings and lifeless memos.
You inspired them when they wanted to set fire to their paint brushes, give up on version 2,437 of the book outline, set aside their entrepreneurial dreams and return to counting down their eight-grueling hours from inside the four walls of a cube but something you said? It kept them going.
You made them laugh when they hadn’t so much as opened their mouth to speak in days after the horrible breakup that left them reeling, limp and lifeless.
You made a difference.
It’s one of the reasons the internet is so incredibly powerful. Not just for what we get to create and share, sometimes out of sheer will alone. But because of the varied and often invisible ways we touch another life with nothing more than our voice, our words.
(I say “nothing more” but really, it’s everything and)
I believe this is why we write. Whether for fun, for work or for fame, our words are like a time capsule, a cache of moments, experiences and musings that find its way to the right someone who open, read and breathe in our words at just the right time.
But it’s more than a historical snapshot. It’s how we make meaning. It’s how we understand ourselves and the world around us. It’s how we sort and process and reimagine.
It’s how we find and see.
That next thing you create? It’s not just a piece of content, it’s a piece of a puzzle that helps someone else make their world better. So they can be found. So they can feel seen (I knew you were a badass).