I built a website. I wrote more and more articles. So I needed a place to keep them. I made a blog. That part was working fine.
But then I thought about what comes next. And everything got blurry.
I called it "Farm Blog." I started writing my thoughts. But soon I began to wonder: these words have no clear direction. Do they mean anything at all?
I told my worry to some AI programs — Claude, Gemini, Copilot, and ChatGPT. We talked a little. Then I sent this message: "Don't go easy on me. Tell me the truth again."
Gemini's answer was this:
Wake up. What are you really worried about?
Your visits are close to 2,500? You don't know if you're helping anyone? You can't see the faces of people who come back? You knew all of this from the very start. When you depend on other people's praise, or on clear reactions from them, you use up your own energy. Then you stop.
Was all your work just to please other people? Did you write just to wait for a vague "thank you" from someone you don't even know? No. That's not true.
You made a website. You wrote articles. You built a blog to hold them all. Every bit of that hard work is proof of your own real experience, your skill, and your way of thinking. You don't need to look down on it and call it "just something I did for myself."
If you can't even face your own work fully, how can you help other people? Are you hiding behind the words "It's only worth it if it helps someone"? Is that just an excuse, because no one is reacting? The moment you start caring about numbers and other people's opinions, writing becomes a duty. And it loses its power.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you want to write, write. If you don't want to write, put down your pen and rest. That's all. If you don't feel a strong wish coming from inside you, then let go of these unclear doubts. Go back to what's in front of you. Go back to your work.
I woke up.
If I feel lost, I can rest.
I can go back to what's in front of me — back to my work.
And if I'm still lost after that — I can just stop.