Why do you write?
(Entry below was written in response to a prompt on 5/6/2002)
Why do I write? Why do I want to write?
I write because it feels good. It’s fun. It’s always there. I write because I like the sound of silence being cut only by my thoughts. I write because my voice is almost as silent as silence itself. I write to get to the truth- to my heart that is all-knowing. I write to free the woman I am inside who hides her face to the world. I write to tap into what’s going on just below the surface of me.
I write because someday I want to be remembered as more than just someone who lived an ordinary life and then died. I want to recreate what I saw, felt, and experienced, so that someone might discover what I wrote and think it makes perfect sense. I write because no one else has ever or will ever see the world exactly the way I see it.
I write to express what I feel about people to them- even if I can’t speak to them in person. I write in order to slow down and capture my life before it flies by and escapes me entirely. I write to entertain myself with the notion that someone is listening. I write to keep myself grounded. I want to write for the joy of seeing my words in my handwriting filling a book. I write to confirm my independence and prove my existence in this wavering world. I write for the strength that writing seems to give me, for the chance to go back and reread my insights and epiphanies, and learn about my own mind.
I write inherently. It’s a driving, physical need without which I would be incomplete. I write for the smell of the ink, for a chance to leave an intoxicating mark of my own on a previously white page. I write for the sheer exhilaration of creating.
I write because there are some things I’m afraid to say, that only I will understand. I write in order to create something that is all my own.