Why I Write


Why do I write?

Because I have to.

In 25 years on this Earth, I have yet to discover something that thrills me more than a story. Words printed on a worn out page that I have to be careful with because I’ve read it so many times, films I watch over and over again because there’s always some tiny thing to be discovered, staying up all night watching episode after episode of a show because I need to know that the hero who feels so much like myself will survive and defeat the bad guys. Those stories I hold dear were woven with words, words written by those who have come before me.

I write because it is my turn.

I write because of what I’ve been through. Losing loved ones too soon, being the center of tormentors attention, and some days feeling never worthy enough to be held by someone. But I also write because friendship has saved me, love has conquered my inner demons and I have seen enough precious moments slip away to know that each of them is to be cherished as though it will never come again, because the truth is: it won’t. I’ll never smell rain for the first time again or unlearn the yearning for adventure that comes from watching the sun sink below a line to be replaced by stars: but through words, I can experience these sensations again and again, ever in a new way, through new eyes, and with an open heart.

I write because I have a voice. My voice is as unique and precious as it is weird and the same. I’v experienced a life that is so similar to so many, but not one has been through it my way. I write because my story of a surviving a crush on my best friend may make someone else thing, “Maybe I can too…” or because my journeys to other worlds in my dreams could come to be the worlds that someone else escapes to when life tries to tear them down. I write because who am I to rob the world of my consciousness? Who am I, made of stardust and science and wonder, to think my words aren’t important enough to be written down? (Spoiler: This entire paragraph also applies to you…)

I write because more than anything, it is what I love, and love – as I was reminded just this past weekend – is the weapon we all have inside of us. Love is what fights back the night and brings deep meaning to a place that can often feel as though it is reigned by chaos. Love is laced through every word of my stories, my life, and my writing.

This is #WhyIWrite.

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