On Writing

I was just thinking the other day how weird it is that I write. And I don't mean that in any sort of special snowflake way but I mean like... I don't even know where it came from. It just happened. I just started writing and words came out and as time goes on they get closer to describing the things in my head.

But isn't it weird? It's just this thing all of us have picked up a habit of doing.

And I guess we all have our own reasons now but at first, when there were no reasons, we just did it without question. I'd stay up till 2am handwriting in pencil in an old folder I kept beneath my bed that was full of (really bad) poetry about a crush I had when I was 16 and my very first fan fictions. Just... because. Not because I thought I needed to or because I was getting a head start on a writing career or anything, but just because it was enjoyable.

But it's a strange hobby to pick up. I guess all hobbies are. But this one is one so personal at times. And you often can't be proud of what you've done to those that know you best, because they don't understand why you'd wanna write about people, or why you share it with others that write about the same people. Or why you'd do it for no feedback, or why when you did get feedback, it was better than being told you were beautiful, or clever, or anything else they might say because these people are reading things that came from such a special place and to have them say nice things about that place is like a compliment for your soul.

Just something that was on my mind.
December 16th, 2015 at 06:14pm