Why I Write: I Am a Word-Bone Archeologist

I’m sitting at my new desk, in my new chair with light from my new lamp given to me by my closest friend so I would have a comfortable place to write. My dog wants to sit in my lap, but my leg will go numb if I let him. I am content, and begin to list the reasons why I write:

I write to give life to the ideas in my head. I write to remember. I write because there was a time where I was not allowed to speak. I write because it’s easier than speaking. I write to forget. I write to try and blot out pain. I write to illustrate joy. I write because I am a coward.

I write because I am brave. I write to understand, to be understood, to connect. I write to know for certain I am not an island. I write to make sense out of feelings. I write to lure out my subconscious. I write to coax out my inner child. I write for resolution. I write for peace. I write to expel violence. I write to live, to participate in life with others. I write to test whether or not I am alone, and to know I am not. I write to offer up hope. I write to give myself hope. I write to experiment. I write to see, to help others see, and sometimes to ignore.

I write to create discord. I write to juggle theoretical inconsistencies. I write to create an alternate reality where I am loved by my parents. I write to confess. I write because secrets will not stay caged, they do not abide as animals do. I write because I cannot control. I right because I want to control. I write to construct stages for my memories. I write to make up fun new words. I write to laugh, and cry and hate. I write to relieve shame. I write to dole out slivers of my soul. I write as an archeologist, to uncover bones.

I write when no one is near enough to hear a joke I made. I write to justify my actions, explain them, convince myself they are correct. I write to matter. I write to be. I write because I have to. I write to sleep. I write through sleep. I write to record nightmares. I write to steal the ears of others, for attention and revelry. I write to trust. I write to change the world, to change one single opinion.

I keep my work anonymous, terrified of knives, slotted eyes and a harsh breath that may send my self-worth into an infinitely downward spiral. I realize no one can understand what they do not know, so I list out my vulnerabilities for an opportunity to be seen.

I write because I do not want to die alone and in a lie.


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