Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Perhaps the most famous of poetry to be written.
Sonnet 18 a masterpiece? No, it should be respected of course, but nothing can truly be a masterpiece. It’s all subjective, opinions differ and times change. What was once mocked, such as Van Gogh’s art, may be seen and revered in the future and vice versa.
I wonder if anyone will ever look at my work in the future and truly appreciate it? Highly unlikely, but a nice thought nonetheless. My writing would have to have a chance of being published to even entertain that possibility and I doubt I’ll ever be published.
I’m not a novelist and poetry just isn’t as popular as it’s hard back cousins.
Am I bitter?
No. I write because I enjoy it, not for recognition. I’ve put pieces online, sure, but I just thought I’d share what I wrote.
Maybe I’ll post this online, I did say I’d make more of an effort to write. But would the ramblings of a nineteen year old really appeal to the internet?
Does it matter?
In the grand scheme of things, no. Even the short term is up for debate.
But alas, if I had no intention of posting this, I wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place.
I find myself becoming more open online. Too much sometimes, it’s odd. This sense of privacy some of us have about the internet. We share so much, thinking the online world will never cross with the world we live in. This naivety will, no doubt, be the downfall of many, but those who are just as open offline will have less to fear than their introvert neighbours.
Which category will I fall into I wonder?