Why you write, and why you stop writing.

You write because you want to read your thoughts. You want to see them embodied on paper. You write because there is something you want to say. You write because even if there is no one listening, you would have still said it somehow. You write because when people fail you, words remain visible. Clear. Those journals? They account for something that happened once and might not happen again. You write because you want to hang onto the memories that faded away so long ago that it feels like they were never there to begin with. With the curve of each letter, emotions were stirred. With each set of ellipses used; a hesitation. A pause. Moments of deep thoughts. Of belief and doubt and everything in between.

And then you stop writing.

You stop writing because what you write suddenly becomes too much. You stop writing because you realise it does not do you any good, if anything, it engulfs you in this little bubble whose walls became so thick that you can see them. You stop writing because the way out was never the way in. You stop because the words.. Your words.. They hurt. They hurt to look at, to think about. They hurt because you are constantly reminded of what could have been but hadn't.


If piles of nonexistent letters could exist, then it'd be those I'd never written.


Anonymous said...

This is so impossibly accurate, and well put. The last line killed. Beautiful! - R