Why I Write

So, I’m trying this new thing where I write try to write everyday. I know, what could go wrong, right? But I’m a big believer in the phrase, “if you do what you’ve always done, you’ll get what you’ve always gotten”….I have no idea who said that. But it describes me perfectly. I get out of situations, and I say that i want a different result, but then I do the same things over and over again. Well, this is me doing something different. This is me proverbially kicking my own ass. Because sometimes you have to kick your own ass.

I’m hoping that writing everyday will lead me to some higher clarity of how my brain actually functions. Because let me tell you, it’s weird in there, y’all. But it’s mine and doesn’t appear to be changing anytime soon. If you couldn’t tell, I’m ridiculously introspective and I spend way too much time in my own brain. Sometimes, it’s like a tornado that’s constantly churning out feelings and memories. And why it is always things I don’t want to remember is beyond me.

“Oh, were you trying to bury that memory that makes your soul shrivel up? Let me just bring that back up” -my brain.

For me, writing is cathartic. Writing slows down the storm and forces me to organize my thoughts. It’s my meditation, and I think everyone needs a form of release. Some people run, and experience the runner’s high. I have never felt this high, only the feeling of my own lungs imploding. Some people craft, but I’m no Martha Stewart. Every pinterest craft I have ever attempted has only left me drunk and angry. So instead, I write. I started writing because of therapy. Yes, someone as neurotic as me has certainly had their fair share of therapy. When I was younger, I had a lot of unhealthy habits. Though I have control over them now, they’re always with me. I believe we all carry around demons. They remind us of things we don’t want to remember. They try to get us back into old habits. Writing is my way of silencing these demons. Therapists often encouraged me to journal, and the act of writing down my thoughts would help control my habits. And what do you know, it worked! At first, the entries were random thoughts and feelings. But as time went by, they became more coherent and eventually began to form passages. And I started to feel more in control of my problems.

The truth is, I don’t care if anyone reads this blog. The only reason it’s public is that if someone stumbles upon this and can relate and not feel so alone, or just laughs at my utter stupidity, then I’m satisfied. Because here’s the thing: I don’t write to change people’s minds. I write to understand my own mind. This is my zen. This is my peace.



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