Why do I write? Because I cannot think of anything else that would be a better use of my time. This is a bold statement and of coarse not entirely true, but one that holds much significance to my life.
I write because I love to read, because I am learning everyday and because it allows me to grow. To write permits an escape into the mind to a place where one does not have to talk aloud. When on the page I do not need to sound eloquent at first or fear that I may not chose my words carefully and offend another person. No, I can flow freely and make mistakes only to go back and correct my misjudgments. With the “real world” we need to think before we speak. In writing we are unconventional, modern, and raw.
Writing allows me to live through my life’s experiences twice. I can work through my problems and the best part of all I can change the way an event took place. In writing I can take what is real and make it more amazing by making up whatever I want. I can build my life the way I want to see it unfold. I can be whoever I want. With writing, sometimes at the beginning you never quite know what you will find out in the end.
I write because one day I hope to be a writer. A writer that inspires others to follow what they love. A writer that writes for those that love to write but thought their work was not good enough. I write because I believe it is good for the soul and I hope one day it will take me away from a 9-5 job.
For the silly reasons, I write because I enjoy writing long-hand and I like the way my words physically take shape on the page. I write because I love it and that should be the reason we do anything in this life time, because we love it.
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