You: Are All That Matters

He looked at the papers again. "I want it to. But look at it. It's full of holes. The characters are flat. The dialogue is stiff."

"Of course it is," Clara said with a small smile. "It's a first draft. It’s the skeleton, the bare bones. All that matters right now is that you’re getting it down, getting it out of your head. You can't fix a blank page, Elias. You can only fix what’s already there."

"Still at it, Elias?" she asked, stepping into the room. She glanced at the mess of papers. "It looks like a battlefield in here." You Are All That Matters

Clara sat down opposite him, her expression softening. "Do you believe it matters, Elias?"

He thought about the advice he’d read once: “The first draft is just you telling yourself the story” . It wasn't meant to be perfect; it was meant to exist. Yet, the weight of his own expectations felt like a physical burden. He kept comparing his messy, incomplete thoughts to the polished masterpieces on his bookshelf. He looked at the papers again

Elias sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. "I’m trying to write something that matters, Clara. But it’s all just... garbage. No one will ever want to read this."

He looked at the title he’d scrawled at the top of the first page: “All That Matters.” It's full of holes

A soft knock at the door startled him. It was Clara, his neighbor, a woman who always seemed to have a kind word and a plate of warm cookies.