On Medium

Medium.

3 months ago, I hadn’t heard about Medium.

3 months ago, I had a job in The Netherlands.

I saw my family regularly. Very regularly.

Who I didn’t see much,

well, ‘see’ is not the correct word,

we did see each other,

we could feel each other,

but we could not touch each other,

was my husband.

3 months ago, I quit my job and moved.

What is it about Medium.

I read articles on Medium.

Apparently, I’m on Medium.

I’m on Instagram.

I’m on Goodreads.

I like photo’s of my friends.

I sometimes post photo’s of my own moments.

I collect a list of books that I want to read.

I search for suggestions for books to read.

Am I also on Medium?

Not really.

Not yet.

Do I want to be on Medium?

I don’t know.

Why not.

To who do I write.

Why would I write.

I know why I’m not on Medium.

To let someone read what I write is scary.

I sometimes write poems,

but I don’t often show them.

Though, I like my poems.

They make me feel happy.

They make another smile.

They are a type of medium,

but I don’t communicate them as my medium.

They feel too personal.

I quit my job.

I moved.

I have my personal reasons.

Why not to talk or write about personal motives.

Why should I care not to.

I have a personal story too.

That may make another smile.

I learn about the odds of markets online.

I practice data science online.

I am online all the time.

Am I on Medium?

Are you on Medium?

We’ll see.