Why I write.. Class assignment.

I was assigned this topic to write, and I believe that it was decent.

                I wonder sometimes why I write. It’s not like I’m being forced to write, is it? It’s not like I’m some sort of Edgar Allen Poe reincarnate, am I?

My mind is a very peculiar place.

Being alone in it for so long makes me want to tear the walls down.

Freedom is only gained through pen and paper- none of that fancy rubbish that includes typing. Feeling the pain on my hands reminds me to keep writing so unwanted thoughts won’t disturb my slumber.

Writing is my escape from the demons I hide inside.

Writing is freedom that stirs the musical phoenix within me.

… I write to be free.

I write to show who I can truly be.

My mind induces inexplicable fears into me sometimes that I enter into combat with weapons- but not fire arms… My weapons are Words. My Words fight my fears and give me strength. My vocabulary gashes at my Monsters, and throws alcohol on their wounds. My words leave a ringing in the air that confuses my Monsters, and, I must admit, myself at times.

My words are my shields against the world’s crude reality.

My writing doesn’t let my Monsters control me- My Words control them. My Words make the Monsters bow before me and regret they ever existed.

My Words became my very essence.

My sadness feeds my thoughts to produce novels and poetry, books and novelas, short stories and comedies. My sadness morphs into glee and jubilance- and though my vocabulary isn’t limited, I may find myself for a loss of words, so I create a picture with them to prove my point. I can manipulate My Words into anything I want them to be. I can use My Words as paintbrushes and maybe even as melodies. My sadness is not truly that but it is happiness disguised as inspiration.

In the cold of night I can use My Words to bring forth warmth unto me and lullaby me to a blissful sleep. My Words… are powerful.

I write to be heard.

 I write to show that I am not weak.

I write to show that intelligence is measured from the head up.

I write to prove that my height means nothing compared to my brain’s mass and my soul’s extent.

I write to show that I love.

I write to show that I loathe.

 I write to show my sympathy. I write to show no mercy.

I write to attack the fears that consume me and others.

I write to strangle the confusion that overpowers my mind at times.

I write to set free the doves of joy.

I write to unlock the inner me.

I write so that I can feel.

Though my hands may tremble upon the scriptures of MY truth, and my eyes burning with salted tears, I will keep on writing. Though the whole world may say that my writings are similar to that of a complaining infant I will still write. I want to be heard- AND HEARD I WILL BE. I want the world to open up their minds and clean the wax from their ears so that THEY WILL LISTEN…

But listen to what…? What do I have to say…? What will keep their attention…?

My writings and Words are just as important as the President’s or the King of England. Why? Because I say so. My writing is relatable, I know this.

What I have seen, witnessed, heard, and experienced I wish upon no one. For that, I write to console those who have felt like me before.

I write to those who are on the verge of emotional suicide. I know I was once alone in a boxed up place filled to the brim with people. My emotions were close to that of a mere atom. I thought I was no one- and for that I write to those who feel insignificant. I know what it was like, and I know that it is possible to escape that icy ocean. I know that though trapped as you may be under the surface, there is a way out. I feel your pain, now feel my remedy.

To those with divorced parents, there is no greater pain than that of being in between the arguments of those you love… Each accusing you to be on the other’s side. There is an end to that, but not once adulthood is reached. Love can fix it all, and I know that loving in a situation such as that one is next to impossible. To those feeling oppressed with separated parents I ask only but to read my experience- I can write to you an infinitesimal amount of Words to show that it is possible to unite your feelings to each parent.

I write for the wise, so that they learn not from their own experiences, but from others.

I write to fly. I write to open my eyes to an exotic world that lies in between the lines and spaces of My Words. I write to explore the dreams of my heart and desires of my mind and glue them into one whole. In my writings I can make even the brightest place look dull and uninviting- yes, I can do that.

In my writings and mind, I am liberated of earthly limits!

I WRITE BECAUSE I WANT TO- not because I am forced. I believe that no one should limit themselves when developing a million dollar story.

I write because I want to soar up high into the emptiness of space and delve into the beauties of the unknown…. though it may be frightening. I like to be scared of my own Words because THEN I realize how powerfully complex they are- because the human mind fears that which it doesn’t understand.

I write to puncture the reader’s brain with my own emotions. I want him to FEEL the invisible bloody wounds that I inflict on the characters I use. I want them to burn under the vinegar being poured upon said wounds. I WANT him to writhe under the power of my awe-striking words, and make his eyes burn from the tears that cascaded down his face upon laying eyes on my text. I want to dominate his emotions- make him my emotional puppet.

I write to show my own emotions that way they are not locked up inside me.

My writing owns no pattern nor does it own a standard- it’s just writing.

I have fallen in love with my ability to color a beautiful scene with shrewd and raw words to create a magnificent masterpiece that even Van Gogh in the time of his insanity would have thought it to be simply perfect. I write so that I may flaunt in this.

Conceited? Me? Certainly not because of my appearance. But I am conceited about my writing. I can easily look someone in the eye and say “My writing is better than your gibberish and hieroglyphics.” HELL, I can even add a little dance to that. Yes, I’m very self-centered about my writing. 

I write to show that you are not the superior one here; it is I who owns you. I write to control your mind and actions through text and mental movies. I write to create an experience far better than that of a movie created by a simpleton. I want to create the juxtaposition of the seed of my ideas planted into your mind and the imagination that you use to make it come to life as one. I write to entertain those who are jaded.

I write so that the blind may see though my words and create something far more interesting than what any person with vision (or lack thereof) may come up with. The blind can read, and I want them to delve into my Braille Writings and create something I have not seen. I want my writings to let the blind see for me.

I write to explore- yes explore. I dip my toes into the icy water of curiosity and scan the area for a topic alien to me, and I begin composing on said subject. I will not rest until I am a Master on this alien topic that way I can apply it to any other text I may have. I write to feed my curiosity, does it all make sense in your mind now?

I write to feed my curiosity- though it will never be satisfied. The satisfaction of my curiosity is a life-sentence and I am to meet those requirements… though it will be difficult. My curiosity will never be near halfway filled- it will always be half empty AND THOUGH others may say it is half full, I am a realist and throw away such foolish views.

I write to be creator of new rules to the English language and have the same license that poets have to alter the rules of punctuation grammar spelling and all of the sort I want to show that I don’t care what people say about my writing method by giving the rules of composition a blow below the belt I want to show that I can be as free as I want to be in my writing and as childish as I please in my writing LET them speak ill of me behind my back for I speak ill of them to their face silently through the words etched on this paper. See what I did there? I completely mistreated punctuation rules in my last sentence. I am owner of this document and therefore I create the laws that are applied to it and those that aren’t. I’m a writer and Words are my weapon.

I write to show that I don’t care what anyone has to say- I simply worry that I may not have space to complete my thoughts.

I write to show my love of love and happiness. I write to my inamorato to tell him that my heart aches when he’s gone

I write to demand my peace and sanity from My Monsters. I write to battle the influenza of “normality”- it seems as if though I’ve been immune all my life, yet I promote individuality.

I write because it is recreational.

I write to express myself.

I write to be heard, or rather, read.

I write because I love writing, and I know that no one will ever change my love for this. 

Author's Note

Just tell me what you thinkkk