You: Are All That Matters

Elias sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. "I’m trying to write something that matters, Clara. But it’s all just... garbage. No one will ever want to read this."

He thought about the advice he’d read once: “The first draft is just you telling yourself the story” . It wasn't meant to be perfect; it was meant to exist. Yet, the weight of his own expectations felt like a physical burden. He kept comparing his messy, incomplete thoughts to the polished masterpieces on his bookshelf. You Are All That Matters

"Still at it, Elias?" she asked, stepping into the room. She glanced at the mess of papers. "It looks like a battlefield in here." Elias sighed, rubbing his tired eyes

He looked at the papers again. "I want it to. But look at it. It's full of holes. The characters are flat. The dialogue is stiff." garbage

A soft knock at the door startled him. It was Clara, his neighbor, a woman who always seemed to have a kind word and a plate of warm cookies.