why my writing is unimportant

I doubt anyone wants to hear what I have to say. And I Feel my words are unimportant too. Unimportance shelters me from self-righteousness. We’re all self-righteous. 

self-righteous

/ˌselfˈrīCHəs/

adjective

• having or characterized by a certainty, especially an unfounded one, that one is totally correct or morally superior.
  "self-righteous indignation and complacency"

• Similar:

• sanctimonious

• holier-than-thou

• 
  

Too Many artists think they’re the coolest thing in the world. Myself esteem from hell keeps me uncool in the coolest way. Unimportance is obsessive. Progressive. 

I hate when my art is insisted to be meaningful or valuable. It’s not. Not that it’s minimalist either, but the purpose is never importance. If importance opens the door you’re at the Wrong house. I’m an artist because Ihaveto be, which makes me totally way better than you. Art for enjoyment is so 2000 BC, and tortured poets are the it-boys of the scene. If you have nothing pseudo-relatable to say then say nothing at all. We put the L in loneliness and the Y in why. Reposters cry at my self(imposed) depreciation but that’s all my honesty is. Proposing myself to be meaningFull guts the meaning and carves a smiling face into its side. Light up the porch but don’t come inside. You get it?