Why Do I Write?

 

Why do I write?

Because in a world where most people feel comfortable speaking and expressing themselves with speech, I feel alienated and alone at times. I love words. I love stories. But I can only relay them through written form.

I’ve always been quiet on the outside, hiding what I really think and feel. I dread making phone calls, I hate giving speeches and presentations (though I’m actually quite good at such things). It just goes against the very fiber of my being and drains me.

Writing energizes me. It makes me feel alive in my own little nook. I get to traverse very different worlds and see so many wonderful sights. I get to explore.

It’s a strange thing to want to experience life. I want to travel and have all sorts of foods, drinks and soak up different influences… but while I love all of it, I can travel to far more rare places within. As a child, I had no trouble imagining a dragon landing in our yard. And in my eyes, it was as real as anything there. If you could have taken a photograph of what I saw, there would have been a sparkling blue, two-horned dragon on top of my swing. I knew, of course, it wasn’t actually there, but it looked just as real.

Having the possibility of realistically imagining so many things has the unfortunate side effect of cutting one off from actual people and the world. Writing is like the bridge between these places. The world in me and the world outside me.