Why I write
I find it oddly comforting,
such a sweet release
oh so liberating
to have the courage to pen down my thoughts
my fears and to make sense of it all.
I write cause that is how I process life,
it’s in my essence
and if you peeled back the layers
of my toughened exterior
you’d see a beating but bleeding heart
simply pouring itself.
Yearning to understand and to be understood.
I write because it’s the only way I am utterly honest
about the things I desire, things that I am afraid to admit to myself
I end up confessing on paper with a natural ease.
The lies I tell myself,
the encouragement I inspire within myself
my anxieties and my random bursts of expression
make sense when I sit down to write.
I don’t condemn myself for all the things that make me who I am.
I hate myself a little less,
I can face the person staring back at me in the mirror.
On paper, I can be whoever I want to be,
without the fear of judgement
without any misgivings.
Safe space for expression and manifestation.