I never really thought about why I find spilling words onto a blank page so satisfying and therapeutic until I came across the trending hashtag #WhyIWrite when scrolling through Twitter this morning. It caught my attention, obviously, so I clicked on the link and began to browse through thousands of responses. There were the typical “because I need a scholarship” or “I need 5SOS tickets ASAP” ones from friends, but the few that really hit me were ones I could wholeheartedly relate to; these mostly coming from people I didn’t know.
I don’t write for the praise, the acknowledgment, or the awards. I started writing when I was 13 and haven’t put the pen down since. I’ve always been the kind of person to go through routine motions every morning – wake up, get dressed, paint a smile, and get through the day – regardless of the thoughts swirling around in my mind. I keep a lock on my heart and those who hang around long enough find the courage to keep prying it open. With writing, it’s completely different. I don’t have to search for the words to help someone understand. They come naturally, like they’ve been bottled up at the tip of my pen just waiting to touchdown on a blank space. There’s never an awkward moment of “I can’t believe I just burdened them will all of my problems” because what I write, I write for me.
I write to come to terms with certain events, people and feelings.
I write to release.
There’s a constant heaviness in my chest, but when my thoughts find homes between the lines, I feel lighter, like everything has finally stopped moving and I can rest.
I write to lose myself.
I get too wrapped up in the next adventure in the world and the new faces of people I haven’t met yet. I get caught in the idea of what’s out there and sometimes it scares me that I may not ever see it.
I write for my sanity.
Life can be a little overwhelming sometimes and my body isn’t strong enough to handle every thought that passes through.
I write because I love creating a story.
I have far too many stories written up inside me, I’m bursting at the seams to tell them.
There’s a voice out there for everyone; whether it’s writing, running, reading, dancing, whatever. Everyone has something that saves them from the harsh realities of the world. You don’t have to be the next great American novelist or be the next grand champion. But you do have to keep writing, keep running, keep dancing, keep doing whatever it is that gives you peace of mind and lets you break free from society, even if just for a few minutes.
Even if there’s no hope, no signs of promise in what you do, keep doing it anyway.
Something good will come of it, even if it’s just your own happiness and peace.
Featured Image Via We Heart It.