So, today, I just want to write, write and write. Don’t ask me why, or how? It’s just one of those days, but then again, what does writing mean to us? Everyone is different and the nice thing is, writing is an outlet. Regardless if it’s a rant, rave or just a desperate attempt to fill space. But it happens. I started my blog ranting about a break up, what I learnt from that experience, was that I could write and write and write and that page spoke for me. I write, because I can.
I write because I have something to say, because the spew in my brain wants to purge. I write because the world we are in was created to be expressed and sometime speech fails me. I write because I see so much passion in the people around me, I see their yearning to be heard, I see the opportunity to speak for them. I am outspoken. I rather write.
I write so someone in my future will know me through my writing, that’s all we will have. My writing. I can help that person grow; tell them to keep dreaming, striving for what it is they want. I write because I would go insane otherwise. I write because I am insane. I write because I am a writer, just like a dancer dances because he/she is so.
I write because it gives me power unlike otherwise. I have control. I write because the pen lets me be anybody I want to be. I write because the pen is my instrument and my words, its melody.
I write because I often get frustrated and don’t know any other outlet. This is me. These are my words. I write because my limit is infinite and my thoughts real. It brings me immortality. It gets rid of the noise in my head.
I write because I can. I write because it transforms me. It clothes me. It plays my music. It voices the truth. Sometimes, it’s true, sometimes not. Sometimes it’s in between. I know what I want and my writing helps me achieve it. I write because I don’t have to stay in between the lines. I write because I can.
I write because my heart allows me to. It speaks too. Just like yours. It hurts, it smiles, it loves, it hates, it laughs, it cries, it lives, it dies. I write cuz it is my nature to write.
I write to make sense of a difficult world.
Why do you?