I oftentimes wonder what it means to be a writer. Can I even call myself a writer? I wonder about the responsibilities and the ethics and the sheer impracticality of being a writer. I wonder why I have chosen this as the thing I wish to do with my life. I've written a hundred letters that mean nothing and everything at the same time. I used to write words on my skin, and then I had them tattooed. I wonder, I wonder, every night, every word, why do I write?
I write because I think in heartbeats. I write because I'm trapped, and I like to acknowledge and defy that at the same time. I write because I'm scared I might forget what I know. I write because I enjoy the irony of writing. I write because I wonder what he and she, sitting across the table from me, think about life. I write because math is perfect and I am not. I write because I have never had an original thought in my life, but sentences are often original. I write because I'm a total masochist.
I worry that I write because I seek immortality. I worry that I write because I know nobody will ever read my work. I write because I was never a lovely speaker. I write because I like the way the ink stains my fingers. I write because I dreamed that I was alone. I write because it's the only way I can be in contact with anything. I write because I am afraid of everything. I write because I feel like the world is slipping through my fingers.
I write because I know I will never compare to Keats. I write because a kiss on the shoulder made me tender. I write to pull my love closer to me. I write because I read deeply. I write because it forces me to breathe deeply. I write because of fireflies and other flickers in the night. I write for my ego. I write because I'm a romantic absurdist who has seen the face of God. I can't write myself to holiness, but I can write a prayer.
I write because I never quite know what to think. I write because somebody once wrote me. I write because I have loved puzzles since I was young. I write because words are deeply sensual. I write because words are deeply intellectual. I write because I have seen wildness in the eyes of a horse, and his wildness is now in me. I write because I once dug deep into the hot Georgia clay and felt the pulse of the earth.
I write because I love the taste of paper. I write because of the Rosetta Stone. I write because I have seen the Ocean and the Night Sky like Mirrors. I write because I have seen nothing. I write because the wheels in my mind creak in the morning. I write because I can't sleep. I write because it's easy. I write because I know I will always be writing. I write because if I stop I might as well have died. I write because I'm scared I will forget what I know. I write because I have no idea how to string all of this together. Do I write into a void?
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Inspired a Creative Non-Fiction assignment that was based on Why I Write by Terry Tempest Williams.
