Why I Write

I write because I can.

I remember thinking about what I really wanted to do during my teenager-trying-to-find-who-I-am phase. I also remember thinking about the things I was good at, things that people praised me for, things that made me feel good. It wasn't long before I found that small yellowish notebook barely alive with pages. I recognized the scribbles and the doodles; the fat, violent scratches of pencil against fragile paper. I remember that dirty, size-confused penmanship that sometimes stretched to the right, to the left, this time up, then down the next. It was my notebook in kindergarten.

As I flipped through the frail pages of that notebook, I found Cinderella, re-told by my then five-year-old self. I remember not being able to suppress a smile. The grammar was horrible and the spelling was even worse, but it sort of sounded right when I read it. I had been a good writer back then. I'd like to think that I'm still a good writer now. I'd like to think that people aren't just saying I'm good just for the heck of it. I'd like to think that I can write.

I write because I want to.

Very few people are lucky to know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that one thing they’d love to do for the rest of their lives. Even fewer people are lucky to be allowed to do it. I want to be conceited and say that I am one of those people, lucky enough to know that I want to write and luckier still to be able to.

When I read books, I always want to be able to write like the people who write them. I always think about what adjectives (and how many of them) to put here or which is the right kind of verb. Sometimes I get frustrated about where the period should be, or if it should even be a period at all. Sometimes I think that I can’t write. Worse, sometimes I think that I don’t want to write.

But then I always find myself missing the magical birth of words in paper or in a Microsoft Word page. I miss how they sporadically come out and turn the emptiness of that paper, the blankness of that Word page into something full, something beautiful. I miss the happiness that comes from knowing that those words are mine.

I write because I have to.

Writing makes me aware that I occupy a space in the world. And it is with writing that I hope to make that space significant. I’ve heard one too many people calling me out for such an impractical passion, been asked one too many questions about where and how a currency sign might pop out, seen numerous eyebrows raised, countless foreheads creased, and a haunting number of mouths twisted into a contortion of ridicule and disdain.

I’d thought about it and at one point decided these people made some sense. If I really wanted to save lives, why didn’t I just become a doctor as everybody expected me to be instead of just sitting idly writing about it? But being a doctor isn't the only way to save lives. I’m saving a life when I listen to a friend or when I pray. I know that books and music and poetry save people because they save me every day. I know I save myself when I write. Writing keeps me sane and whole and from forgetting that no matter how bad things get, flowers still grow and there is still so much love to be had.

This is why I write.

I write because I can and I want to and I have to. I write because I know no other way to change the things I want to change. I write because my fingers are restless and because words are too precious to be left alone in an axis where they don’t mean anything and can’t touch lives. I write because I am in love, because I am sad, because I am angry, because I am happy. I write because people think I’m good at it and because I sometimes lead myself to believe I’m good at it. I write because I suck at everything else. I write because I am conceited and get jealous of other writers who are better than me. I write because it makes me feel good. I write because I want to tell the truth that I believe. I write because I’m a coward. I write because it gives me courage. I write because the world needs to wake up. I write because people need me to tell their stories and because I need people to hear my stories. I write because I have dreams. I write because I hope. I write because I’m alive. I write because I want to be alive.