I have thousands of unpublished words sitting on my computer that will likely never be read again. I’ve had ideas where, at the time, I typed out a page or two as my mind released itself.

Sometimes these thoughts went nowhere, sometimes I couldn’t find a way to tie everything together. Occasionally, the article was solid, but it didn’t feel right to share it with the world.

Still, like with a journal, I wrote because I needed to think something through. The act of writing helped me process or understand whatever my mind forced upon me in those moments.

Whether those words are ever read by other eyes is irrelevant. The work is done. They’ve served their purpose.