Why I Write

I write because it is the voice I don’t have when I speak. I prefer myself in the written form.
I tend to speak before I think. When I write, I think about what I want to say.
I’m wary of language. Grammar, punctuation, and tense trip me up but I always get back on my feet. There is a continuous fear of not feeding the blank page, finding the next word, or composing the next paragraph to meet that final comma. It’s a necessary struggle.
Writing makes me a better person. I’m more thoughtful, I think in ways I didn’t anticipate.

I write because I aspire to change lives including my own. I write because I’m generous.
I write because I can and want to. I write because I’m selfish.
I write to better understand others. I write to get to know myself.
I write because I need to vent. I write to suppress my rage.

I write because it allows me to create new worlds and escape into them.
I write to start a conversation with a stranger and an argument with an old friend.
I write to remember the past, and to map out the future.
I write to record my thoughts. I write because I want to air out my ideas.
I write to help my mind retain important things that I want to keep close.
I write to create different realities and to change mine.

I write as if my life depends on it, and sometimes it does.
I write to empty my mind. I write because the only escape is through the empty page.
I write because deep down a voice keeps telling me I need to, for my sanity.
I write because it is the right kind of solitude. I write because I don’t want to be alone.
I write because the word on the page will last longer than my memory.
I write because if I don’t, one day I’ll regret the fact that I didn’t.
Most importantly I write because only I can tell my own story.