Why Do I Write?

Written 11.9.09

Why do I write?

I write because it is proof that I have imagination left from my childhood, something I’m terrified of losing. I write because people tell me I’m good at it and I need the confidence that I’m good at something once in awhile. I write to worship and magnify the power of the written word and all it can do. I write to make other people think. I write to make myself think. I write because sometimes it’s all I can do–write and cry. Cry and write. I write to prove other’s views of me wrong–I am not confined to a stereotype, or an image. I write because I love the feel of pen/pencil/marker/crayon across paper. I write because I love to see the empty spaces on a blank piece of paper filled. I write to improve my penmanship. I write to see how weird my handwriting is today. I write to stay inside the lines. I write to see the emptiness in the world. I write to COLOR OUTSIDE THE LINES. I write so I can see beauty in the world. I write to fill up a line, a page, a book. I write because I have to, because otherwise, I would fill up and explode with all the words waiting inside of me. I write because I have inner voices begging to be released, to be tangible, to be loved, to be given a chance to tell their story. I write to capture a moment. I write for the satisfaction of a finished product. I write because the beauty of the unknown is overwhelming. I write because I am inspired. I write because I pray. I write because I am raw human emotion AND I NEED A WAY OUT. I write to escape from reality, and what has to be done. I write because I need someone to read me all over and understand me and know who I am. I write because it is the only way I know how to strive for perfection. I write because I can make people feel. I write because it is my job. I write to find inner peace. I write so that I can fly. I write so that I can dream fantastical dreams. I write because there is no other way for me to communicate so clearly.  I write because the paper is always silent and will never tell me how to feel, or think, or act. I write because I can create my own world. I write to find myself. I write to realize my blessings. I write to express my curses. I write because I like the sound the keys make as my fingers scurry across the keyboard, seeking letters. I write to share the stories of the voiceless. I write to find meaning in my own life.  I write so I can connect with my own real feelings, and understand. I write because I think I can change the world. I write because I want to share myself with the world around me. I write to connect. I write so that thousands of years from now, perhaps, someone will be able to look back into a different time and say: “Ahh. So that is how it was” and take away a little piece of me and my world with them.

I write because, quite simply, I can.