Why I Write

Why I continue to write — even though I suck at it.

I love writing. I try to write every single day. A great part of my life has revolved around writing. Since high school, I’ve tried my hand at writing fiction — fan fiction, mostly — and opinion articles about political issues and stuff like that. During college, I was writing all the time — papers, short fiction for the university magazine, articles for journals. Even after college, I continue to write — more research articles, fiction, and blog posts for my company’s blog.

I’ve never stopped to think why I write, though.

And I don’t think I want to.

I could come up with a million reasons why I write — to win a competition, to hand in a paper, to publish research, to earn money… but I feel all those reasons are not my own, rather, a collection of outside voices telling myself why I should like writing.

Most of the time, we often don’t listen to ourselves, our innermost self. We become so fixated on pleasing others on the outside, we forget the most important person on Earth: yourself. I might come across as being egomaniacal here, but think about it. When you’re down on your knees and drenched in the rain, who is always there for you? You are. And sometimes, you know what is best for you. Unless we’e talking about a medical emergency. Leave that to the doctors. From there, I finally found the reason why I write: for me, myself. It’s not about getting published, a thousand views in thirty minutes, selling a book… it’s just something I do because I want to do it for myself.

I don’t think of myself as a good writer. I don’t think I’m a bad one too. But no matter what kind of writer I am, I’ll continue writing just for the sake of myself.

And leaving behind a record of my existence doesn’t sound so bad, too.

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