I write because I cannot string together a sentence. I cannot go from one thing to the next without getting frustrated at the lack of progress that I find. I trail off on rabbit trails and end up hating myself for even speaking in the first place. I get discouraged by the comments, frustrated by the impatience of others when I tell my stories, and then shut up by the middle of their other conversation. I write because I can speak my mind to the masses without being hushed or controlled in such a way that I cannot freely literate my words out there. I have something to say or maybe I just want to talk. I have an issue with talking. Not talking at all, but talking in an interesting way. I bore people with my long words, frustrate those who don't share my opinions, and am looked down on for having knowledge about subjects. I am interrupted without a thought; I am lied to and guilt tripped for what I've said. I just want to be left alone or just left to feel comfortable to talk to someone. I write because it's the only release I have that makes perfect sense and strings together without becoming long winded. I write because I do no remember what I've said, just the gist and feeling behind it. I write with expression and energy; not with eloquence and poise. I stand my ground and pound on the keys despite these fake plastic tips preventing me from my every move. I come up with ideas-elaborate worlds within my mind. I compartmentalize and keep plodding on, resting assured that it has been written down and told to someone. I don't need someone to hear me. I need somewhere to pile my information. I constantly spill out my information that I've learned and combat anything that I find fault with. I judge harshly but love fiercely. I am inconsistent in staying on one track but dependable in delivering much and very often. I have nightmares that I am late to places for the inconvenience of others and the annoyance I feel of someone doing that to me. I hate having to repeat myself and yet have a seriously hard time hearing anybody. I listen to hear, not to reply. I think long and hard about the intentions of someone and sometimes like to relax and let them show me what their intentions are. I want to write, not only for the release but for the simple pleasure of just letting my words exhaust themselves on a page for once without fearing the judgement or critique from someone who has misunderstood and cannot fathom what I meant by something. There's a part of me that cares and there's a part of me that just wishes to further retreat. I am not a retreating nature unless I have deemed it worthless to me to continue pushing and further wish to save myself the turmoil of the explanation. It's a saving of your time and my irritation for me to end it there. I write so that I may live out and fill something with parts of my mind and imagination. I write.
