Why do we write?
What makes you want to dance through words and paint them on a blank page?
Where do the words even come from?
Anyone can write. How many of us have kept journals or diaries? Leaving pieces of ourselves on stray paper that we never shared or looked at again. The thing with writing is that it’s therapeutic. It’s a teacher, a friend and a lover. It offers comfort and it brings about an understanding which we wouldn’t find in anyone or anything else. It’s honest and terrifying at the same time. You don’t need to be a writer to be able to write. All you need is yourself; a canvas and courage.
It takes a great deal of courage to look within yourself and then lay yourself out, naked and open, between lines and letters. Sharing the quiet, dark crevices to your soul. It takes courage to dig deep inside the parts of us that hurt, that haunt and that you alone don’t understand. To take these parts and draw them out like flowers with colorful petals despite how ugly they make us feel. Despite the anguish and horror, they portray. When they are resting on the blank pages; they become beautiful. Imprints of ourselves that no one will ever replace. You’ve left your mark and that mark might just be stuck on someone else.
I write because I can. I write because I know no other way to be. I don’t know what to do with myself other that to sit and stich my soul onto a page. To tell a story. To seek and to learn. To be free. I write because I need healing. I need a reminder to breathe and sometimes, it comes from the stains my soul and heart leave through words. I write because I have a message, a message that deserves to be shared and heard. I have it embedded in my very being and I write it out; in a million different ways. Words are sweet offerings that touch and latch and cut and heal. Use them in a positive manner. Use them to tell a story. You own story.
Anyone can write. All you need is yourself, a canvas and courage.
Why do you write?