One of the biggest problems we currently have in society is that everyone takes everything so personally. Every little thing is looked at as a personal slight and people tend to forget, that the world does not revolve around them and other people have stuff they are going through too. 

Here’s an example:

A person commented on every single chapter of a story I am writing, and not just a “nice job” but paragraphs, they took their time to write very deep comments. They stopped commenting around six to eight months ago, I think. It is something I noticed, obviously, not a lot of people take the time to write long comments, and that is absolutely fine. I could’ve taken it personal, assumed they didn’t like the chapters I’ve written since then or made it about myself in any other way. Personally, I just assumed something might have happened, I was worried but didn’t really know how to contact them or if it was appropriate to. After all, they are still a stranger on the internet. 

Today I received a comment, more like a message from them, explaining why they haven’t commented in such a long time. They let me know that it was because they were taking care of their elder parents, both of which were seriously ill, the father has died a while back and the mother was diagnosed with even more severe illness than she had before. They can’t get help from the health care system because they don’t qualify, the waiting list for in care facilities is years long and so they have to take care of them all by themselves. While fighting health issues themselves. 

Yet, they took the time to let me know, to make sure I knew that they still loved my story, that they were looking forward to catching up once things calm down and that knowing I am still writing, still updating gives them something to look forward to. 

This is so overwhelming and such a beautiful gesture. Amidst all of that chaos and trauma, a stranger took the time just to let me know what impact my writing has on them. It is very touching.

This is the reason I write, the reason I started to write. I want to be able to help people, touch people do something to maybe make their life a little easier, give them a short escape from their reality. Like reading stories used to give me growing up, when things got too difficult and too much I’d escape in stories, a phantasy world, somewhere where I was in control, at least when I was writing or while choosing what I was reading. 

I got a little of track here but what I’m saying is, we never know what the reasons might be while someone isn’t getting back to us right away or stops commenting on social media or stories we write or movies we make or whatever it is. And most of the time it has little to nothing to do with us. 

It’s important we remember that. We are not the center of other people’s lives.