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Why I Write
People may ask me,
Why do you write?
And as more or less a reflex,
I tend to respond with a simple yet fulfilling
"Oh I don't quite know, I just like it…"
And though this isn't false,
It seems to be so much more than that.
But it is more in a way that I can never seem
To describe with accuracy.
You see, the thing about writing, for me of course,
Is that there is no fear of judgement,
And that the paper seems to understand perfectly
Exactly how I am feeling.
For an outsider looking into the glass box known as my life,
Writing most likely appears
As the cliched teenage angst-filled answer
To the problems that no one can seem to see.
But for me,
Writing is and opportunity.
It is the opportunity to be honest,
With myself and you as well.
Even if i don't quite know
What I'm talking about myself.
And when that is the case,
Especially after a long night
Of hazy dreams or crazy schemes,
Writing simply seems to give me the window
And act as a release.
I write solely because it makes me feel better.
It gives me the chance to map and understand.
Writing is a release,
And way to remember.
I write purely because it suits me.
I write because I can.
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