Why do I write ?
I have thought about this a lot, maybe someday, I will be confident enough to publish all of this, but for now, this should suffice. I’ve always wanted to write a book. But why? Because I have so much to say and sometimes even words fall short.
It is inane that in my worst moments I find comfort in reading and in my moments of euphoria I can barely type a full sentence without skipping to the next one.
There is this inexplicable urge to write everything I feel. Maybe it comes because I want to remember everything, maybe it comes out like vomit, to write and let it all out. Either way, I write like a possessed man who has been running on coffee, no sleep and i being driven by his emotions
Maybe I write because once you write, it is true. I write for assurance or maybe I write about things that would take me away from reality into a fantasy- a place where people speak what they really feel and people feel understood.
Maybe I write because that is all I’ve ever known- when I’m writing, I am staring at myself in the mirror , trying to find myself in my writings only to get lost in words, and fall for them over and over
Writing for me is like finding calm in the chaos, that is my mind, like the first drops of rain after scorching summer heat, like finding a big puzzle piece of your life. Like breathing art and living it.
