Why I Write

I've always loved to write, though I'm not sure why. Maybe it stems from my love of reading. Maybe it's because I've always received praise from teachers over my essays and assorted writings. Maybe it's because I loved getting and sending mail as a child. Maybe it's because I struggle with confrontation. Maybe it's because my head is always full and my thoughts get overwhelming. Maybe it's all or none of these reasons.

I do know this, though: when I write, the thoughts slow down and stop racing for a brief time. Words flow and show the truth. Paper doesn't judge or throw back comments. I never worry how the paper or the text box will respond to me or how it will point out all the flaws in my logic. My writing is true, it's raw, it's sometimes the most real version of myself I can find or provide.

I can't stand silence, though...that's why my work is filled with sound and why I carry headphones in my bag. Just like I crave to hear sounds through the day to remind me I'm not alone, I crave responses to my writing. I want to feel the eyes of another carefully studying my words, dissecting my useless ramblings.

I was recently told that my words have power, and I laughed. I'm one of the most powerless people I know. My words aren't magical, they hold no authority. They often fall on deaf ears or are discarded as soon as they are discovered by the eyes of another. My words captivate no one and cause nothing but rifts in my relationships at best. I'm nearly certain the only power this blog holds is that it's cost me multiple friendships this year with women that I do consider powerful, ladies I see as amazing and highly admire.

The only dwelling where my colloquy seizes any glimpse of control is within my own mind. That's where the words begin and where they end, in the prison of my own making. There they sit, develop, and transform into something one can only imagine. That's why I must release them; writing is the only path to free myself from my thoughts.

My words are true, my words are real, my words are valid. You don't have to agree with what I say or how I write, but that doesn't make them lies. You can pass me in the hallway with a cold stare where a caring smile used to be or you can ignore my existence all together if you feel my thoughts are too much, I accept your rejection. My words aren't powerful and all they bring me is pain, but I'll keep writing them anyway. I'll just be filled with more thoughts and feelings of overwhelming regret and rejection that will need to be released.

When I write, I can see the words coming to life. I have the ability to shape them, to change them, to build them anyway I desire. I feel like an artist choosing tools and colors as I carefully process and select what to say next. When I write, everything is clear: there's no conflict between my head and my heart, my voice and my face. There are only the words. Words don't lie or try to cover up the truth, words are what you make them, words are exactly what they spell and say.  Words are like glass, like clear crystals, and you can see right through them. You can find the honest answer in my words, you can see into my soul.

A good friend of mine stated that I have important and valid things to say. I'm not sure that my words are ever really that important to anyone besides myself. Then again, maybe that is a portion of why I feel compelled to not simply scribble some nonsensical verbage into a leather-bound book but to make some of my thoughts digital and share them with the world.

I think the real trick of a gifted writer is using the powers of word manipulation for good. If words really do hold power, if they are valid and important, then we must consider these when we begin to write. Words are not to be thrown around loosely, although our President seems to think differently. Words can unravel someone to the point of no return, or raise another to the highest mountains on the Earth. Words can connect, words can destroy. Words can save us or murder us all in the same day.

Right now my thoughts are racing and they've been eating away at me nonstop for days. Writing helps me slow them down; writing seems to ground me, if even just for a brief moment. My words don't lie and my paper doesn't judge...but I cannot live in the silence of a journal always. Words are too powerful and important to always remain hidden. Words were made for reading; words are how we learn.

And for some, like me...words are how we go on living, words are how we silence the screams inside our minds.