Why I Write

Some people would say it is peculiar that I stare often at the moon, and wonder about the stars in beautiful awe. I ponder why others do not try it. It is so freeing to gawk at something so proving of a higher being and the sensationalism of it freefalling in space. I escape to the moon when I feel Earth is not living up to my expectations. I take out my emotions on it, like I do with paper. That is why I write, words are just as captivating as the moon. No wonder words are so powerful, and to express myself through them is invigorating. It is my canvas in which I paint my sentiments. Words are my liberty, my soul mate, whether it is my own, or a predecessor's ideas before me.

Words are valued in my eyes, having been a victim of teenage isolation; they allow me to express all that I am seeing around me and what I am feeling inside. Books are my companions, my best friends. I read because I write. I write because I read. When I write, pouring out of me is everything. Whether it is the sadness of feeling betrayed, alone, or forgotten, and especially the questioning of aspects most people in my place dare not to touch. No matter the topic, if I write I can free myself. Able to unleash emotions from the chains with which I hold them back. However, such emotions are universal, but I make them mine in my own unique way. My pen rushes about the pages angry and hopeless while my fingers race across the keyboard in fury, in a trance that I cannot explain. It feels as if everything is going to work out, and that no one can hurt me again, ever. I am free and invincible. I am existing. I am.

Life around me, especially in nature enthralls me. I found my inspiration in the night, so I contemplate the agony and beauty of it. I have observed that the day is overrated. The sun is too bright and too hot. The night, the polar opposite, cool and dark, does not harm my eyes and does not cause me pain. I just sit and watch the stars; seeing the moon in all its phases and glory. I am stimulated by my discoveries and personal revelations that flow. I am able to dive deep into the natures of humanity, of existence, and love; all what makes the world go around. What I reflect on, most people take for granted, and what I see, I see, everything through these enlightened eyes. God is there, and I am closer. God is there, and I am liberated. God is there, and I am me.

With writing as a talent and a hobby, I am free to be me. I am free to love. I am free to be everything I am. Paper is so honest, white and untainted unlike the minds of humans which can betray you if you divulge the deepest inner secrets. I am free to speak my mind. I am free to live. I am free to die. There is nothing more my inner spirit can do to express everything in my life, every emotion, and every observation. I write not because I can, but because I would not be complete without it.

Writing is Completion in its entirety, Freedom in its glory, and Reason without intention.