"Nothing haunts us like the things we do not say." I write because not writing the scenes that play in my mind is a lot like ignoring someones cries to hear them out. There's scenes, melodies, and images that keep on playing and repeating in my mind. I cannot erase them; Calm and sooth them back to sleep until I write them out.
I aim to rescue a portion of the drowned and drowning, I wish to become more then a mere soul submerged within the vast limits of darkness and light. Everyone is drowning, everything is drowning, every moment of living is a moment of drowning.
And I wish to become the voice of lapping bubbles who explodes to the surface, the voice of the lost and sorrowed. Because writing always felt like an ocean to me, one that I cannot escape. It's like I finally hit sand, and it's over; Then the waves pull me back in again.
I write because it is therapeutic, my words sound better coming from my hands than from my mouth. I can speak a million and one untruthful words, but in my writing I am raw passion, hate and emotion. I cannot lie within the pages of my books, for it is who I am, it is me written beneath words of love and hate.
Why do I write? Because I feel misunderstood, I guess. Because nothing ever comes out clearly enough when I try to speak. . . I write because I need to write, in hope that someone will listen because writing mends the broken inside me, and brings me back to life.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Withered Writing
PoetryI write because my soul lies beneath the ink. And with every slip of my pen, sparks return to exhale passion and reason into my writing. (This book has become my therapy, and it will either lead me to get better. Or lead me to death.)
