The Absolute Bliss of Writing a Paragraph That No One Else Will Ever Read

Dear Delyara, I opened a completely blank Word document on my laptop tonight, turned off the Wi-Fi router, and spent forty-five minutes writing a description of an old market square I visited when I was a child. I didn't worry about plot, marketability, or whether it conformed to any literary standards; I just focused on the sensory details—the smell of the roasted beetroots, the clinking of the tea glasses, the cold weight of the copper coins. When I finished, I read it over, felt a deep, glowing warmth in my stomach, and then I closed the document without saving it. It is gone forever into the digital ether. And it felt absolutely incredible. I am finally reclaiming creativity as a personal, sacred act of joy rather than a product to be measured, shared, or approved of by strangers. My imagination belongs entirely to me again.