When I try and think why I write there are a 101 reasons that come to my mind.
I write to discover myself; For the hidden treasures in the art that I find.
I write for the addict that I am to it.
I write to fight my inadequacies; to find solutions to problems I won't quit.
I write to breathe, to exclaim and vent.
I write to make up for the time I lost when I didn't.
I write to feel it's pleasure. I write to feed my soul.
I write because it creates me; it makes me feel whole.
I write out of hate. I write out of love.
I write for what's inside me. I write for the acceptance I am deemed unworthy of.
I write when words are too beautiful to say.
I write to explore the sections of my mind deemed grey.
I write about what brings me to madness; I write about what makes my heart sing.
I write for myself. I write because it gives me wings.
I write to gain control of my solitude; I write to tranquilize my agony.
I write to uncover what I have the difficulty to say; I write for my sanity.
I write to make peace with my angels. I write to fight my demons.
I write to make sense of things that have no rhyme or reason.
I write to linger on the love that I feel.
I write to assert the thoughts I am unable to conceal.
I write to be able to fly away to the moon; I write to chase the shooting star.
I write because it makes me feel so much lighter. I write when I feel the need to share.
I write knowing well that it makes me vulnerable to the precariousness of exposure.
I write to melt away the burden of ages; I write for it's bliss and for the love of expression.
I write when I see the world ending in greed.
I write because it hurts me too much; I write to sow some beautiful seeds.
I write to ease the blisters that hate and animosity brings.
I write to feel the rain cascading upon it. I write waiting for the springs.
I write for the marvel of words; I write when everything else falls short.
I write for the warmth it envelopes me with. I write for it's comfort.