Why do I write?

I write to heal.

I write to pour my heart out on blank pages as if to colour a rainbow on the canvas.

I write to express an emotion that has been lurking in the corner of my mind that I had almost forgotten, and even when I have written hundreds of words, that lurking does not go away.

I write to escape the mayhem of life—to live in the magical world that I create.

I write to enjoy the dance of the words on the stage of my journals.

I write to love myself again.

I write to remind myself of my power.

I write to appreciate myself, to feel courageous, and to face my fears.

I write to overcome my agony and enjoy ecstasy like fire and ice.

I write to hate the world for its chaos, bitterness, and dreary.

I write to admire the hope of a little girl and the dreams in her eyes.

I write to understand the pain of a broken woman with a shattered heart.

I write to overcome the inhibitions of an inexpressive father, lover, man.

I write to realize what it means to hang on the edge long enough to snap.

I write to acknowledge the intellect with its loneliness and sharpness.

I write to capture that one moment when life actually mattered.

I write to experience the pain when one thinks one ceases to exist.

I write to travel the time and space with stories untold and unravelled.

I write to listen to the heartbeat of the ocean and what is buried in its soul.

I write to do myself a favour—to let go of my anger.

I write to clear my mind from judgements and opinions of the world.

I write to escape a surging storm inside, which would drown me.

I write to encapsulate the wisdom life brought with it.

I write so that I breathe easy at night.

I write so I can live!

I write to simplify the complexities of a relationship.

I write to sip on thoughts to enjoy my coffee.

I write to smell the ink of experience on the paper of life.

I write to hear the scratching sound of pen on paper.

I write to quench the thirst of my soul—like a parched Earth yearns for rain.

I write to fly like a seagull and dive like a vulture.

I write to swim like a whale and own the ocean.

I write to roar like a lion and mark my territory.

I write to be the alpha of my existence.

I write to feel the blood running through my veins and adrenaline rushing too.

I write to burn in my own fire and rise like a phoenix from the ashes.

I write to be in heaven and hell at the same time.

I write to be jealous.

I write to fall in love with myself again and again.

I write to fill the collapsed lungs with air.

I write to calm the vicissitudes of my spirit.

I write to lay the ghosts to rest.

I write to expose my wounds and apply the balm.

I write to depict the dirty details of that sordid look.

I write to pay homage to the bravery of the soldier.

I write to taste the gravy of words, garnished with emotions, cooked over a slow flame of passion.

I write to change the projectile of sentiments emanating from me.

I write to cry and to be empty again.

I write to admire the courage of the tragedy called human beings.

I write to giggle with success and weep with failure.

I write to smile, and shine, and laugh!

I write to stop my mind from overthinking.

I write to experience the single-pointedness when the external world ceases to exist.

I write for praise, for connection.

I write to meditate, to control my breathing.

I write for the humility it brings to keep me grounded.

I write to remind myself that I am a minuscule moment in this vast bubble called the universe.

I write to explore the joy and happiness of simple life.

I write to smell the wet soil after rain.

I write for ice cream and chocolate.

I write to fill the vacuum of my loneliness with words, emotions, and feelings.

I write to forgive.

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