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Humanity and narcissism are, arguably, mutually dependent. In a world where people are more interested in creating who they are in their virtual lives than becoming who they are in their real ones, an inflated sense of self-importance is, perhaps, a natural symptom.  I suppose you need a healthy level of narcissism to exist in the age of the selfie, but what distinguishes artists — writers, in particular — from the rest of humanity is the mutation of this selfishness into art; A thing that is, at its core, wholly unselfish in light of the value it brings to the world.

If to be a [wo]man is to be a narcissist inherently,  then to be a writer is to be a narcissist fully, intentionally and eternally. To have the audacity to believe that anything you have to say could potentially change the world is pretty egocentric. And yet believing this wholeheartedly, writers write. We share our untold stories hoping that, by mulling over secrets from our pasts, events of our presents and dreams for our futures, we will find the words to make souls stronger – especially our own.

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