Why I Write

when i was younger, i never really understood the importance of writing. i just saw it as something you did for book reports and essay questions on tests. then when i turned eleven (i think), the whole concept of writing became something entirely different to me. i found it as a way to express my thoughts, argue (competently), critique others, and just have fun with it. i no longer wrote for homework and projects; i started writing simply for the sake of writing. i was suddenly thrust into this world where i could create things, be they terrifying, emotional, or just a string of random thoughts.

then something else came along. the world of poetry (which i see as something completely separate from writing) exploded in my face. it was such a curiosity for me. the deep layers of emotion and complex thought that lay between those verses was greek to me. then one day, i picked up a pen and began ink the broken thoughts that have lain in my mind for years. i realized then that this crude journal i was penning resembled something like the poems of lore i read so often. for a moment, i felt as though for a moment, i could see into the minds of those poets and could feel what they felt.

as for now, my mind is in a blur. nothing is clear. nothing is concrete anymore. everything in my head is a jumble of mixed emotions and uncertainty. i try to straighten things out in this maelstrom by writing down whatever comes to mind to see if i can make sense of it, but it doesn't help. i fear i will sail on these trackless seas forever.