For the likes
For the likes
I write for myself. For years now, I have words, thoughts, stories, and experiences that have to go out. I trust them to the metaphorical paper. And it makes my life better that I do that.
But posting, that is a completely different matter.
Posting is for me, too. But in a different way. The feedback is a good reason, and the interaction makes me a better writer, as well as a better editor. But that is not it; I get easily annoyed at random critics who only point out spelling and grammar mistakes. I know I write as a non-native speaker; there is a reason for that.
I am pretty sure I write for the likes. For the reblogs. For other writers or hypnokinky people to say something nice about it.
Each like is a small dopamine hit. It hits me right in that part of my brain that gets happy about it. Each one is conditioning me to feel good about posting. Each one makes a small mark in my deep self that makes me feel good about posting. And I can just mindlessly stare at the number that goes up, and up, and up. Each one is making me feel better and better.
That can’t hurt, right?