I wrote this piece years ago, probably while in high school, but I feel it still holds true. So here it is:
I write to feel better. I write to feel worse. I write to find answers to what I feel and from what I might secretly know beneath the surface. I write for pleasure and for purpose. I write to make things known and to get through to people because I don’t really know how to any other way.
I write to understand myself better. I write to feel like I belong. I write to know there’s always something I can do. I write as a coping skill. I write to communicate and because these hands are able to so I might as well. I write because it feels right and it makes me feel safer than anything else. I write because it’s a record of what’s passed; the past. I write because I’m never going to remember every thought I ever have simply by memory. I write because it makes me feel good. I write because sometimes pieces reach out to people and touch their heart.
I write because people enjoy reading. I write because I love to read the pieces I write years later. I write because I know that’s what I felt at the time and that was what was real to me then; that was what was going on. I write because it makes me sad when people say they can’t or that they won’t simply because they’re bad at it because in reality no one can be bad at writing unless there is a reason they can’t write at all.
I write because I can escape from the rest of the world when it makes me sad, when it ignores me, and when it rejects me.
Now why do you write?