"A description? How am I suppose to write a few paragraphs to describe my life? And for that matter, what is an identity, anyway?" I shake my head and sit down, pulling out a crisp sheet of notebook paper.
My pen begins to write, spilling words across the paper. 'Hello. My name is...'
I stop writing. "What name do I use? Oh, well, better to be safe."
'My name is Synge, or, whatever you want to call me. I am fourteen years old, and I have a passion for writing, reading, and drawing. In the past, my interest has mostly been in dragons. However, I am beginning to branch out with my art, and soon, (hopefully,) with my writing.'
My pen halts. I sigh and push the paper aside. Perhaps I can show you who I am a different way. 
Words on paper will soon be forgotten.
But memories will live as long as you let them...
If I can show you who I am...
If I can leave an impression on your heart...
If I can put a smile on your face, even just for a moment...

Then maybe all these words will be remembered.


Tell me, reader, what better reason is there to write?