“Why do you write?” If this was something asked a few days ago I would have responded that it was what I was good at. Lately, I realise that writing is the only avenue I can connect with others. The avenue through which I bare my soul and appear more human than the cold shell that is usually used to define me.
However, writing, for me, is more than something I’m “good at”; it’s how I piece together my experiences; edit my circumstances; and punctuate my growth.
How else do I share with so many others the lessons I wished that someone had taken the time to teach me.
I write because it’s who I am. It’s my way of reaching out to others who may need an alternate perspective. To appeal to those who yearn for an escape or even just to know that there is someone else out there who can relate to their struggles; their experiences and even their “almosts” – whether good or bad.
I really don’t remember when I started to pen my thoughts and feelings, but soon after it became my escape. Through writing I have been able to embrace others, come to terms with losses; celebrate triumphs and growth. But I have also learnt to cope… I cope with the lows and temper any inkling of hubris that threatens to loom within me. Through writing I’ve been able to reach out because some lessons are too painful to learn on our own and when I share, I hope to save someone the pain I went through to learn that lesson.
But hey, I may not be the paragon of virtue, at the pinnacle of life’s experiences or even at a level to say that I’ve mastered the puzzle called life. But I write because in the moments when I bare myself on the pages-when I divulge my dreams, my fears, my shame and my journey I hope that someone; even ONE, will read and learn.
I write to share, I write because I love.