I write because it brings me immense joy. I write because I envy and am inspired by the (some good and bad) writings of (some “good and bad”) writers.
I write because I see people write; in real life, in cafes, in movies, in the library, on their laptops, in their journals, and by the window, by the canal, in the plane, on tissue paper. These glimpses filled me with writing-related thoughts, from jealousy to joy, and they jolted me back to my own writing and writing habits.
Writing has always been there for me, to company me at all stages of my life. Writing is my best friend. It allows me to purge what’s in my mind and drip it into paper. Writing gives me a space to be myself, even if it’s writing about the same dumb things over and over again.
Writing also helps me to express myself deeper – better. Better at articulating my feelings. Better at being dependable to myself, to you. Writing helps me recall things. Record things and, interestingly enough, rewrite things.
Writing pushes me to learn more about me, about you, and about the world.
Why Do I Write?
This is a question I have thought about 3,017,238 times.
I write because it centres me. It grounds me because writing is my anchor. And, oh baby, it’s nice to have found my anchor!
I write to think more and to think less. To grow. I write because it’s my hobby, my passion, and I feel incomplete if I don’t do it. I write because I want to honour my creative side. And writing is my creative outlet. I write because I am semi-obsessed with stationaries, letters, and handwrites.
I write so that (one day) we can connect. And when we do, you get to see the real me because the me who writes on the moleskin journals, on this blog, and on the DayOne app is the rawest version of me. Not always kind nor delightful, but the most real.
I write to hone my skills. To be funnier because being funny is important.
I write because it makes me smile, makes me happy. It makes me feel feelings. After all, it’s my hot-button and sore subject.
I write because one of my biggest life regrets is not writing sooner, feverous, consistently, and more. Another regret is not learning about writing academically. Though, if I am honest, I am still glad I studied Finances as it’s also able to feed my semi-alcoholic lifestyle and brought me to fascinating pockets of the world. Even when I’d like to think the writer’s side fueled both in me.
I write because I have the privilege to write. And I don’t think I am wasting my time writing, writing all the time time, writing about anything, writing about nothing, writing something, thinking about writing, listening about writing, talking about writing, even daydreaming about writing.
I have thought: “I’d rather be writing…” at least 3,017,239 times in my life so far.
I write because I am not who I am without writing, I don’t know who I am without writing, and I never want to find out.
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