Empty Space

Though I make a living as a developer, this blog doesn’t even have Google Analytics properly connected. It’s not that I intentionally avoided setting it up—it just somehow never got configured right. As a result, I have no idea how many people visit this site or which posts they read. There are no tracking codes, no tracking algorithms. I don’t even update view counts. In essence, this is a site that is visible to everyone and yet gives me no clue who is actually watching.

Most blogging platforms offer some form of analytics, and I tend to check those fairly often. The numbers rarely change much, but I still find myself looking. But since this site has no such tracking, there’s no reason to check, and in a way, that freedom from observation has allowed me to express deeper thoughts without concern for how they might be received.

This blog is where I post things that don’t make it onto Brunch—my main writing platform, which has over 4,000 subscribers. While Brunch is for posts that I want to be seen by those readers or found via search one day, here, I write for a much smaller, quieter audience. I do hope that many people might read my words someday, but at the same time, I don’t mind if no one does. The reward is already in the act of writing. Any joy that comes from being seen by others is just a byproduct. Not bad, but not something I desperately seek.

And so, this space feels like a truly free and empty room for me. It’s easy to write honestly here. Sometimes I imagine that if I ever become known to the world in some way, someone curious might come and read these words slowly, one by one. I write with empathy. Since I care deeply about others, I also enjoy sharing my own story in different forms. It may be difficult for some, but for me, it's a joy.

To me, the world is a place to explore. The subject I find most fascinating is human nature. That’s why, since I was young, I’ve immersed myself in books and ideas on philosophy, religion, and psychology. I’m not the type to get completely absorbed in books, though. The ones I do love tend to be about the essence of humanity—or books by Haruki Murakami that are just the right mix of reflective and erotic. Or whimsical, imaginative stories like Harry Potter or those witty novels by Jonas Jonasson. Everything else I read mostly just to expand my understanding, even if they’re not particularly fun.

The insights I gain from studying human nature, essence, and patterns give me a clearer view of the world. Sometimes I feel awe when I see the true nature of a person. Of course, like anyone else, I’ve experienced disappointment in people—but lately, I’ve been blessed to meet individuals who grow more admirable the more I get to know them. Some might be clearly impressive on the outside, but it’s often their inner strength and integrity—deeper than anyone I’ve known—that makes me feel grateful. Of course, they too make mistakes or show imperfections, but that’s not the point. Even setting aside the flaws, they shine because of the strengths they carry. That’s what I admire.

I often reflect more than most on the meaning of life and the nature of humanity. So much so that losing myself in philosophical questions feels like rest to me. Like releasing the tight tension of a guitar string, immersion in those thoughts relieves the stress of daily life. When I read like that, I often fall into deep concentration for 2–3 hours—as if in a room alone with the writer—and I feel grateful just to have that kind of time. To be able to read, to think, to form opinions, and to gain new insights in the process—these are all blessings unique to being human.

That’s why I see this space as an extension of those insights. A place where I can write freely without awareness of statistics or others' gazes. It’s a strange but wonderful feeling—not knowing how many people are reading, yet being completely free to express myself. Life is a journey of creating your own answers and finding your own joys. I’ve enjoyed that journey for a long time and discovered many answers that suit the being I am. Some people spend their lives listening to others and still never quench their own thirst—when the voice they really need to hear is within.

In that sense, I think I learned—at a relatively young age—how to bring my inner voice to the surface and live a life where my inner and outer selves align clearly. Writing trains you to express your tangled thoughts and emotions through language. The thousands of pieces I’ve written weren’t just a list of thoughts, but a discipline to bring my inside out—and through that process, I was able to tidy up the chaos within.

That’s why I needed an empty space. I created it. I filled it. And in doing so, I’ve already received all the reward I could ask for. If someone else happens to read this, then perhaps that becomes their reward. This is how I live in the world.