ทวีตที่ปักหมุด
I spent over 15 years as a print journalist. The written word wasn't just my livelihood, it was the thing I believed in, maybe more than anything else. Before I became a film director, I was a film writer and till this day, I have only made movies from my own writing.
And somewhere in the last decade or so, I've watched the written word get quietly, steadily dismantled. Almost eroded. Like a shoreline nobody's paying attention to.
It's not just that people read less. It's that we've stopped expecting depth. We've recalibrated. A paragraph feels long now. An argument that takes three minutes to make feels like an imposition. Language itself has shrunk. Flattened into captions, reactions, five-word opinions delivered with the confidence of essays.
I find that terrifying, actually.
So a few weeks ago, almost out of stubbornness more than strategy, I started writing long posts. On Facebook. On Instagram. On X. Places that were practically designed to punish you for using too many words.
I'm not doing it because I think I'm going to save anything. I'm doing it because I can't just sit with the feeling of loss and do nothing about it.
Maybe it reaches a few of you. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe you're one of the three people who got to this line and I want to say — thank you, genuinely, for still being here at the end of a long post.
Long-form writing isn't dead. But it's lonely. And it needs people who refuse to let it go quietly.
I'm not ready to let it go.
English
