Why do we write?
Why do we write?
Its the same question again and again, right? And we get the same answer all the time.
We write to spill our inner feelings and thoughts. We write to free ourselves from the invisible cage we’re locked in. We write to satisfy and our soul, and to calm our anxious heart down.
We write because sometimes its just in our blood to do so. We write because there’s this thing nagging at the back of your mind and you HAVE to get rid of it.
We write because it makes us feel happy. It animates us, relieves us from our stress, gives us a chance to think things over or through and clears our disordered mind.
We write because if we don’t, we might break. We might lose our ourselves. We might suffocate. We might die.
We write because we have no choice.
We write because sadly, its the one thing we’re good at.
We write because we can’t speak. Our voices doesn’t reach them no matter how loud we try to be.
We write because we can’t properly convey our feelings unless its on a piece of paper.
We write because…sometimes its just, ‘just’.
We write because our mind is different from theirs.
We write because our body turns numb if we don’t bleed the words.
We write because we’re not good at expressing ourselves.
We write because we love adventures. We love long, late night trips, and coffee and cinnamon.
We write because we want to be praised. We want to be proud of ourselves. We want to hear the awesome exclamations and applauds.
We write because its our duty to do so. Its what we are destined to do. We can’t change that, ever.
We write because…We love to make people cry, make them laugh, bring terror in their eyes, tense their hearts and occupy their minds.
We write because we love to. Because no one can stop us. Because its a lifetime journey that will never perish, that’ll never get boring, and that’ll forever excite us.
We write because we can’t take drugs to forget about the bad memories, or drink to paralyze our pain.
We write because others want us to. Because we have something to tell. Because we’re filled up with so much secret and mystery.
Because we’re the most alive people.
Because others are mostly dead inside.
That’s why we write. And we’re clearly unstoppable.