Why I Write

Just a condensed version of my ramble about why I write.

All through elementary school, as most kids do, I had a rather strong disliking of school. Not because the classes were hard and I wasn’t understanding anything but because I didn’t get along with any of my teachers. It was like the teachers and I were not only on two completely different planets but in completely different dimensions as well. I had bad grades because I would refuse to do anything; what was the point when everything I did was wrong?

            I transferred schools at the beginning of my fourth grade year and the first day of school that year changed everything. I had a dream that night that I was watching two droplets of water merge to become one and I could sense a change within myself. The remaining two years of elementary school were the best and most amazing of any school year to this day. It was there, in those two years, that my passion for reading and writing ignited from the tiny, little embers it was and became the flaming desire it is today.

            From there my passion and desire only grew and became a more intricate part of my life. As Graham Greene says, “Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose or paint can manage to escape the madness, melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in a human situation.” I love writing, I write just for the heck of it, for therapy, salvation, escape, healing, analysis; these are all the main reasons for which I write.

            Last year I used the analogy “sewing the ground together” to represent my “therapy” in writing, but now, thanks to my writing, I have another, must more in depth comparison.

            I’m sure we’ve all heard the saying, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” right? Now take a willow tree, for instance, and picture it in your mind. Its shape isn’t coherent, its limbs just dangle there, its leaves are raggedy, and it is these traits that lead people to think these trees are just a waste of space. Now, picture the white blossoms that come in time, about the size of a half-dollar, lining each limb, covering though not hiding the ragged leaves in the background, creating a dome-like structure itself.

            The raggedness of the leaves compliment the blossoms, further exfoliating their beauty. Part the limbs and step into the dome the tree creates. Once under, behind, inside, notice how from this angle the leaves themselves are more distinctly seen. The blossoms are now the background for the leaves and it’s the blossoms that appear to be ragged and the once ragged leaves that now show beauty.

            My writing, like a willow tree, begins a ragged, unorganized mess but reaches a point in its time that its beauty can be seen and blossoms to its fullest. This, this is why I write.

Author's Note

Though my rambling is "limited" in this I know that I still rambled quite a bit so point it out if you'd like otherwise enjoy my rambling - haha.

Reviews

[Cole Hayley]

It hits home. Great work friend.

[Jon Settle]

Thank you very much.

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the reasons for writing. Most writers write for the profit of the heart. Not for wealth.
” I love writing, I write just for the heck of it, for therapy, salvation, escape, healing, analysis; these are all the main reasons for which I write."
I write for the same reasons. Writing have given me peace in my life. Thank you for describing why you write the word.
Coyote

[Jon Settle]

Thank you, your comment means a lot.

[Leticia Z]

Your writing inspired me to start thinking about why I write. I remember being in elementary and not understanding the world of numbers at all. When it came to creative writing I would have quite an imagination. Your words about writing because it is therapy are so on point. I have always written and written and its been a very therapeutic approach to life. Great writing.
Very fresh and insightful. I truly enjoyed your ramblings.....very organized rambling.

[Jon Settle]

Thank you so much!!