Words expose us. Even when you’re not writing something personal, your style pervades in your word choice and rhythm, in the subtle ways you attempt to organize chaos into something meaningful. And this style certainly evolves.
This is why writing is particularly challenging for beginners. It forces you to fall short of your own expectations. Like the amateur chef trying again and again to emulate a great meal they’ve tasted, you can recognize and appreciate good writing while not being able to create it. (My own writing, for example, tends to be overcooked.)
The frustration is real and necessary, because that’s how skill development works. To improve, your taste for things must outstrip your ability to create them. Judgement must exceed the work.
This imbalance between taste and ability also means you’ll encounter people who can find flaws in your writing, but may not be able to correct them. A reader may be able to sense that something could be better, but not have the ability to explain it. Ambiguous feedback is not an attack. Embrace scrutiny. Learn to convert critical feedback (heck, even cynical feedback) into better writing.
So write. Badly at first, then occasionally well. Write to think, to remember, to understand. Write because in a world of limited attention, the ability to capture and convey meaning clearly is so desperately valuable.
“Reading maketh a full man, but writing maketh an exact man.”
Francis Bacon