Writers are evil.
The first time I’ve ever approached a girl was back in school, I showed her something I wrote. It was a poem. It wasn’t about her nor was I even thinking about her when I wrote it but it generally was romantic. It was basically the first time I used something that I wrote, slightly exaggerated, to gain someone’s affection and attention.
We, writers, have our own ways with words. And if the conversation turned from a spoken one into a written one, you’ve simply entered our domain. We’re good at texting, sexting, greeting, insulting …etc. We will describe you better than you’d describe yourself. We will describe the people around you. We will tell you how you feel and why you’re feeling it if you allow us to do so.
We’ve been there for you. We’ve been there when everything else and everyone one else bailed on you. We’ve given you love. We’ve given you sympathy. We’ve kept you company. And when you needed it, we’ve given you distraction.
We’ve helped you cope with the trivialities of life and the tragedy of losing someone you love to life or to death. And hey, we’ve helped you lie to someone you love, and even to someone you don’t love. We’ve helped you capture someone’s heart and destroy it and it was also us who’ve helped you gain someone’s attention, someone you’ve always cared about but lacked the words to describe it.
Our words may not resonate with you at a certain point but they would at another. It depends on how hungry for any meaning your heart is and creating meaning is our business. And sometimes, our words may force you to look at something the way we want you to. Because writers are evil.
We’ve said, say and will keep saying things we don’t mean but we’ll say things we mean too, Good luck finding out. We struggle with words sometimes just like you do. We mask our feelings and thoughts into metaphors and fiction. We immerse beautiful words in poison and dip our awful ones in honey before we serve it on a silver plate to you.
We’ve killed many people too, fictional ones as well as real ones. We’ve inspired killers and healers. We’ve inspired leaders and followers. We’ve created tyrants and revolutionists. In our words, people believed. They’ve conquered countries, enslaved, and freed others reciting something we’ve written in a moment of inspiration.
We deceive people by making them feel special. By making them think this is about them, when in reality, it’s about us. We write to emancipate. To unchain ourselves from all the experiences we’ve absorbed but didn’t have the right words or metaphors to articulate them. We write because speaking isn’t for us. But most importantly, we write to shield ourselves from you; from your evil doings, shortcomings and hurtful words. To shield ourselves from a world we’re unable to relate to. A world that has been nothing but a disappointment for our ambitions and imagination. We write to create an alternate reality that would keep us from losing our minds. We write because this is how we breathe in the toxic world of misunderstanding.
Writers aren’t evil, the world is.
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