Words are so powerful, so hurtful and so healing, so peaceful and so angry, so dark and so bright. They carry a meaning like no other, a meaning more than any action can have. Just one simple sentence- "I'm here for you"- can save a person's life and give them strength for their mountains and a cushion for their valleys. 
Words are too often used to hurt and to kill and to take, but words should be used to help and to save and to give, to be the light in the darkness. 
And that is why I write. 
Sometimes people ask me why. "Why do you write?" They ask. "Why? Words are so meaningless, so weak. What's the point?"
To be honest, I never used to know the answer to that question. But now, since I have found myself and who I am, and when I accepted it, I changed. 
Now, I look them straight in the eye and I say, "I don't write because I like to. I write because when I was little, books and the night were my only safe place from the demons that plagued my days. I write not for myself, but for others, to help create that escape I always needed. I write to inspire others and to encourage them, and to bring attention to all the things in our world that need fixing. I am just one author, in an army of millions, doing my part one word at a time."
Those people, the ones who don't understand, will look at me sideways and think me crazy. Maybe I am. 
But I know I am not, for all the other authors, the ones who understand what I say, will laugh and smile and tell me with their eyes, if not their words, that they are part of that army too. 
There seems to be a code among authors. We understand each other, and even if we simply say 'Hey, keep doing what you're doing,' and go on with our lives, we go on with a smile, knowing that we will never be lonely, for we have an army of friends at our sides.
We keep our faces to the sun, and our shadows die behind us.
And that, my friends, is why I write.