Perspective

“Views: 14.”
I looked at the number again.
Fourteen.
I refreshed the page, even though I knew it wouldn’t change.
Still 14.

It’s been like this for days. Maybe weeks.
I write. I share. I hope.
But the world stays quiet.

People always say, “If your story is good, people will find it.”
I believed that once. I thought if I wrote with honesty and heart, someone out there would notice.

But they didn’t.
Or maybe they never saw it.
Maybe it got lost in the crowd.

They say, “Talent rises on its own.”
I guess mine never did.
Maybe it’s still down there, trying to rise —
but no one’s looking.
No one’s listening.

It hurts.
Not because I want to be famous.
Not because I need millions of followers.

I just want someone to read my words and feel something.
Just one —
to read my words
and feel.

To pause.
To connect.
To say,
"Keep writing."

But most days, it’s just me and the silence.

It makes you question everything.
Is it me?
Is my writing not good enough?
Do my words not matter?

I try to stay strong. I try to keep going.
But sometimes, it feels like I’m shouting into an empty room.

Still, I write.
Not because people are reading.
But because I have to.

Because these stories, these thoughts, these feelings —
they live inside me,
and they won’t leave me alone.

So maybe tomorrow, I’ll post again.
Maybe the views will still say 14.
But I’ll keep writing anyway.

Because even if no one sees it,
it still means something to me.

And maybe, someday,
it will mean something to someone else too.

But then I scroll through my feed...
I see others celebrating.
"Just hit 1 million views!"
"Can’t believe my story went viral!"

Their comments are full of love, support, and applause.

And I pause.

I don’t want to be jealous.
I don’t want to feel small.
But it hurts.

I’ve been writing too.
I’ve been trying.
Late nights, long hours,
breaking pieces of myself into every word.

But no one sees it.
No one shares it.
Just me —
and those lonely novels.

I see their posts, their smiles, their success.
And then I look at mine.
Quiet.
Empty.
Forgotten.

I feel broken.
Not because I want millions of views.
But because I want to feel seen.
I want to know if my words meant something to someone.

Just one person. That would be enough.

They say, “Be patient.”
They say, “Your time will come.”

But what if it doesn’t?
What if I’m just not the kind of story people stop to read?

Still... I keep writing.
Not because I’m winning.
Not because people are watching.
But because these words are all I have.

And maybe one day, someone will find them.
Maybe one day, someone will say,
"I needed this."

Until then, it’s just me —
no readers, no views.

I’m twenty.
Not old by any means.
But in this world of viral hits, child prodigies, and instant fame…
I feel ancient.

I wanted to be a creator.
A writer, a storyteller —
I didn’t care what you called it, as long as it meant someone, somewhere, read something I made
and felt something.

I had this story in my heart.
It was big. Emotional.
Too big for just words, I thought.

So I tried to draw it.
Turn it into a manga.
I thought maybe — just maybe — the pictures would help people feel what I couldn’t explain with text.

I tried to turn my stories into comics.
But I started late.
No art school. No time.
Just tutorials, crushed pencils, and a sketchbook full of eraser dust.

But I couldn’t draw.
Not well enough, at least.
The scenes in my head were so clear, so full of emotion…
but my hands couldn’t keep up.

I practiced.
I tried.
But every sketch felt like a failure.

Eventually, I let it go.
Not the story — that still lives inside me —
but the dream of telling it that way.

It hurt to let it go.
To admit that I couldn’t make it work.
That the version of it I saw so clearly
might never reach anyone at all.

Sometimes I wonder if I gave up too soon.
Other times, I wonder if I ever had the chance to begin with.

And yet…
Even with all that, I still sit down.
Still write.
Still dream.

Not because it’s easy.
But because I don’t know how to stop.

Because even when the world doesn’t see you…
you still want to be heard.

I tried, But here i’m
Seeing another anonymous name in a forum full of success stories that don’t feel real.

I scroll.
“1 million views in a week!”
“Manhwa deal signed!”
“Got scouted by a publisher!”

And me? I’m still staring at the same number.

Fourteen.

Fourteen people clicked.
Maybe two actually read.
Maybe none finished.

People say it’s about passion.
But passion doesn’t pay rent.
Passion doesn’t get you discovered.

You need views. Followers. Proof.

And I had none.

Do you know the myth we all follow?

To create a great story without background in the industry,
no skill in art,
no connections,
no spotlight...
means to write a great novel — and the world will come.

That’s what they tell us.
That’s the fantasy.

We believe it because we have to.
Because it’s the only door left open to us.
If we can't animate it, illustrate it, or fund it —
then maybe, just maybe, the words alone will carry us there.

But words can be quiet.
Too quiet for a world built on noise.

We write in silence, hoping someone hears.
But the truth?
The world doesn’t pause for beautiful stories anymore —
not unless they come wrapped in color, sound, motion, fame.

I’ve seen it happen.

Brilliant novels —
true masterpieces —
wither away in the back corners of websites.
Unread.
Unnoticed.
Not because they weren’t good.
But because no one drew them.
No one promoted them.
No one shouted for them.

I once thought I could be the exception.
That if I just wrote hard enough, deep enough, honestly enough —
it would find its way.
But stories don’t walk on their own.
They need a vehicle.
And in this world, art is that vehicle.

Maybe some of the people like me tried to create one.
Tried to draw their own manga.
But maybe some made and some couldn’t.
Where; for me I didn’t have the skill, or the years it would take to learn.
And the story sat still again — locked in text, unheard.

And now, everywhere I turn, I hear the same whisper in new voices:
"If your novel’s good enough, someone will notice."

But how long do you wait to be noticed?

How long before hope becomes a weight?

How many stories never got told
just because the writer couldn’t draw?

Just because they couldn’t afford an artist,
or didn’t have followers,
or weren’t lucky enough to go viral?

We talk about talent.
We talk about passion.
But the truth is, the industry isn’t built for passion alone.

It’s built for packaging.
It’s built for presentation.
And if your story doesn’t look loud,
it gets drowned out —
no matter how deeply it speaks.

So here we are.
Still writing.
Still dreaming.
Still hoping someone sees the value
in a story
that can’t sell itself.

Until then,
we stay in the myth.
Writing novels in the dark,
planting seeds no one may ever water,
waiting
for someone
to notice a forest that never had a chance to grow.

Here's the truth —
Some of the greatest stories we know today…
We didn't discover them because of the novel.
We discovered them because of the webtoon.
The art. The panels. The viral moments. The storyline. The drama.
That’s what caught fire.

I’m sorry to say it, but —
the reality is, people love the concept of a story,
but most won’t sit down and read the novel.
Because this isn't the era of novels anymore.

But saying that out loud...
Sometimes it makes me feel like I’m betraying my own story.
Like I’m lowering its worth by admitting the truth.

Because yes — We all believe in the stories we create.
We believe the story We wrote has something real inside it.
Emotion. Meaning. A world people could care about.
Characters who feel like they're breathing.
It has heart.

But here’s the other truth:
Even a story with heart might go unread.
Not because it isn't good —
but because this system doesn’t work on the heart alone.

A story needs visibility.
A platform.
Engagement.
It needs numbers — views, likes, comments —
things that say:
"This is worth your time."

But when you're starting from nothing…
no following, no hype —
it doesn't matter how much soul you pour into it.
The algorithm won’t pick it up.
The platforms won’t push it.
The readers won’t see it.

So that novel,
the one that could’ve been something,
just sits there.

Unopened.
Unseen.
Waiting.

Not because it lacked power —
but because it lacked presentation.
Because it didn’t have a trailer.
Because it didn’t have panels or promo art or a popular tag.
Because it didn't have noise.

And that’s the part no one tells you.

That sometimes, even your best work
won’t make a sound in the world —
not because it’s weak,
but because it’s quiet.

And this world doesn’t reward quiet.

<! NO HATERATE—>

Take Solo Leveling.
People love to call it a legendary webnovel now.
But let’s be honest —
Most of us only found it after the manhwa exploded.
It wasn’t the novel that created the fandom.
It was the visual created by Jang Sung-Rak, the story created by Chugong, the hype from the webtoon.

Then, like sheep retracing steps, we went back to the novel and said, "Oh wow, it was based on this?"

And now everyone repeats the same myth:
"Write a webnovel. It’ll be the next Solo Leveling."

No.
It won’t.

Because even if your story is brilliant,
no one sees it…
until someone else draws it.

we’re trapped in this myth —
where the novel is the seed,
but the tree only grows
if someone draws the branches.

And still, we believe.
Still, we think our novel could be that story —
the one people will cherish, love, remember.

So we started searching.
Looking for people to collaborate with.
Waiting for a platform to notice us.
Hoping — endlessly waiting.

But all that waiting…
it pulls us apart.
Piece by piece.
Until we feel like we’re breaking into something
that can’t be fixed.

So I’m done waiting.
I want to break the myth.

This is my story —
and in some way,

it’s every writer’s story.