I Write Therefore I Am
Writing is a compulsion for me, now at least. Even if it weren’t my livelihood, I would still be writing. I can’t stop it, and can’t really help it. While there are a few people I know that fully get that urge, others don’t. They know I ‘like it’ but when I try to really explain it’s almost like breathing at times, I just have to- it tends to fall on deaf ears.
Hell, half the time even I don’t get my own urge to put ‘pen to paper’* but I just know I have to. It’s become a release and one of the only means I really have of letting out any pent up emotion. I do notice a difference on days I don’t write.
Normally, it’s at this point that I mention I never intended to be a writer and that it just happened, but I guess there’s no point of saying it anymore**. Beforehand, the mere thought of jotting down 400+ words gave me a migraine, yet now my only thought is along the lines of ‘is that all’.
None of the above is to say I’m a writing genius. I’m not about to delusion myself and think I’m anywhere near Hemmingway, no I’m okay with being just another voice in a huge room of voices. I know that those who may find my particular sound inviting will listen (or, read in this case) and those who aren’t, simply won’t. I don’t do this for readers, although I won’t lie- it’s a very nice ‘side effect’ of this public forum.
Also considering if I didn’t want readers, this blog wouldn’t exist.
*Because, really- me saying putting font to screen doesn’t have the same poetic appeal.
**Yes, I am fully aware I did just technically say it, but thank you for noticing.
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