Why I Write
I had always been a fan of fiction. I often found myself lost in the multiverse of stories. However, reading this specific economics book awakened something in me. It spoke about people, the world we live in, more profoundly than any psychology books I had read. It opened up so many new perspectives, helping me better understand how the world works. I was left craving for more.
Since then, I’ve been reading non-fiction with a burning passion. I love digging into new ideas and ways of thinking. Over time, I started noticing patterns between books — how one author’s thesis collides with another’s antithesis. That’s my fun: discovering those connections by chance across totally random sources.
So, I write to share those discoveries.
I tend to argue with myself a lot, but when I write, it no longer feels like a solo debate. It turns into a conversation with the authors I’ve read, like a symposium. I bring in one group’s ideas to challenge another’s, and through writing, I can lay it all out clearly instead of keeping it tangled in my head. In exploring and questioning the ideas, I discover my own voice. My own arguments begin to take shape. Sometimes, I find that my thoughts echo ideas from experts. Even if I wasn’t the first to think them, there’s something thrilling and validating about that alignment. It reminds me that I’m on the right track, and it motivates me to keep thinking, exploring, and writing.
So, I started writing—weaving rational thoughts into an enchanting melody of words. It draws on both my logical side and my creative side. After years of embracing systematic and scientific thinking for my profession and my life, I’ve found, once again, a place where I can be creative and eloquent. As my English teacher — arguably one of the most influential figures in my life — once said:
"Writing is like carving a sculpture. You must cut slowly, respecting the grain, paying attention to the smallest chips of stone to create something that breathes."
This shapes my expectation about writing. It is slow. It is tactile. It requires the patience of a craftsman who knows that the beauty is in the details. Over time, I’ve become much more patient when I write. Now, I see the finished piece as something magical and alive — a work of art that has come to life through careful thought and care.
Writing is very much to my liking.
Why P1ECES?
Whew, I can go on and on. I am proud of myself for coming up with the name.
Writing requires a lot; hence it trains a lot. I was very reluctant to start, as the effort and time required do not translate directly into money or something more tangible. So, I needed to start small. Pieces are small. Small pieces every day slowly accumulate over time. I started this right after reading Tiny Habits1 and The Boy Who Could Change The World2. In the latter, Aaron Swartz started with small posts on his blog. Initially, I wanted this to be more than a personal blog. But right now, I just want to read more and write more.
P1ECES is where I connect the dots. Knowledge and wisdom are often fragmented, scattered across places both obvious and obscure. Yet, when these fragments are gathered and carefully aligned, they illuminate a puzzle that was once a mystery. I want to find meaning.
Working on P1ECES is also my therapy. There is a quiet desperation in being "broken"—in feeling like the parts of your identity have been scattered by the friction of life.
"When it falls into pieces, we put them back together."
It is my path to recollecting myself. It gives me a purpose to refocus. All these broken pieces of me—I have to put them back together.
Sharing Pieces
While Jordan Peterson first introduced me to the concept of sharing, it was Aaron Swartz’s The Boy Who Could Change The World2 that actually pushed me to start writing. The main impact that book had on me was a single, haunting question:
What is left of me if I die tomorrow?
Without writing, the thoughts I have, the ideas I've tinkered with, and the struggles I've fought would simply vanish. That is why every post, paragraph, and sentence here is carefully curated and passionately written. I hope a sentence in these pieces might spark something in you, just as Aaron's writing did for me. There is a strange, quiet peace in going to bed knowing that a part of my soul is anchored here, existing outside of myself.
What are the other options I have?
Of course, there is a lingering stigma around self-expression—the belief that our thoughts and feelings should be kept private. We are often told that growing up means being "less noisy" to fit in. We are taught to be obedient, polished, and above all, silent. Yet, singers and poets are celebrated for their expression. They aren't "noisy"; they are enchanting.
I am someone who needs to ponder and express. I cannot bring myself to stop thinking or feeling. What choice do I have, then, but to set these thoughts free? If the nightingale is praised for its song, why should the rest of us be forced into silence?