a little push

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Pouring words
onto a screen
hoping they'd be heard
and seen.

Reread, rephrase, and rewrite
from dawn till the dead of night.
Every sentence should sound just right;
not a single error should be in sight.

And then the cursor hovers over "publish"
and clicks.

I showcase what I cherish.

And then I wait,
and wait,
and wait.

I march onward
and tap away at my keyboard.

And then I update
and wait,
and wait,
and wait.

For weeks, months, and even years,
I shed blood, sweat, and tears,
yet my words fall on deaf ears.

Those who stumble upon my work by chance
never linger; never advance
past the first few parts.

My fragile heart
breaks apart.

I wait,
and wait,
I hope and wait,
but nothing happens as of late.

And while others rise—
some of them, to my surprise—
tears blur my eyes.

My talent is a lie.

A lie!

No wonder people only pass by.

And those who peek inside
leave as soon as they enter.

I am a horrible writer.

Outside, I only sigh;
deep inside, I cry.

Consumed by frustration and hate
I begin to contemplate
my departure.

I am once again a failure.
My words have failed to capture
a single reader.

My journey here is over.

And then something pops up on my screen;
something that I have never seen.

A vote? A comment?
A compliment?
Words of encouragement?

Wait, I have talent?

"You have talent."

It must be a dream.

Too good to be true, it seems
but it is real.

No words can truly describe what I feel.

Joy and happiness blossoms
in the bosom
that once housed a heart
that was shattered into shards.

Along with it, a fire reignites:
the passion to write.

I return to my device
with glistening eyes
and with eager hands
I express my thanks.

With renewed confidence
I compose the next sentence
of my half-finished draft
and resume my craft.

A little push was all it took
for me to continue writing and sharing books.
Whether they be short or long;
prose or song.
For once, I feel like I belong.

Who knew a few words could be so strong.

No amount of thanks—
no matter how often my hands
type them out—
can ever be enough.

To the kind person online,
I wish you the best in life
for you have greatly affected mine.


⭐︎ ✧ ⭐︎ ✧ ⭐︎ ✧ ⭐︎ ✧ ⭐︎ ✧ ⭐︎


I normally don't put notes except at the beginning or end of a book. However, I would like to stray from my habit just this once.

At the time of publishing this poem, I have been writing on Wattpad for nearly six years. I have been investing a lot of time and effort into putting out my work. I would edit as I drafted. I would proofread before publishing. Even after publishing, I would reread it just to catch any errors that could have slipped past. Though not all of them were my best, I did not relent. I just kept on writing, hoping that someone would enjoy them.

The only reader interaction I received were from those I knew in real life, and even then, it was not a lot. They read mostly because they knew me; not necessarily because they genuinely liked my work. They also didn't read everything I put out. Outside of my real-life circle, I was struggling to get any attention. The first stranger to like my story had her accounted deleted—or deleted her account, I do not know—just days after voting and commenting on one of my stories. Between the year I joined and 2020, I could count the number of strangers who voted and commented on my stories on one hand. It did not help that in the same timeframe, I received the lowest grades in English class I have ever gotten. My writing was dipping. I was worsening.

Meanwhile, other people's stories were rising. One person I knew fussed over her vote count. Her story had around three thousand reads and "only" a few hundred votes in comparison, so she complained to me about it while we were in school. She used her "low" vote-to-read ratio as a reason to discontinue the aforementioned story. She published a chapter saying how the lack of votes demotivated her and later removed her book from public view.

As someone whose stories garnered almost no attention on Wattpad, you can imagine the effect it had on me. Inside I was lamenting the lack of reader interaction. I was tired. Frustrated. Furious. I was on the verge of quitting Wattpad. Nobody was reading and enjoying my work anyway. Why bother wasting time and energy?

Until someone starting voting on my stories and commenting on them. In the year 2020, I received a flood of Wattpad notifications for the first time in my life. I had a regular reader. There was someone out there, whom I have never encountered in real life, genuinely liking what I wrote. It blew my mind. It was enough for me to stay.

Fast forward to 2021. I still am a small writer; none of my stories have cracked 3K reads so far. However, I have reached some milestones: two of my books have been featured by the official Wattpad Short Story profile, I cracked 1K reads on four of my books, and found a very small—but existent—audience. If you told me a few years ago that these things would happen, I would not believe you.

I was later inspired to search for undiscovered stories on Wattpad. I was never much of a commenter since I often didn't know what to say. However, knowing the impact comments had on me, I tried to leave them on books I enjoyed. I wanted to lift up fellow small writers, just like how I was lifted up.

And then, one day, I received a reply from one of the authors whose books I read. She thanked me and told me how she was just about to quit writing until she saw my comment. When I read her reply, I was touched.

Just like me, she was a small writer about to quit. Just like me, a comment from a stranger was enough to keep writing.

It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Hours after that, I wrote this poem and published it. This is a thank you to every single person who read, voted, and commented on my work. This is a thank you to every single person who added my story to a reading list, followed my account, and given me words of encouragement. It truly means a lot. You have no idea of the level of impact you can leave on someone.

I am still here, thanks to you. Thank you.

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