I Live Most When I Write

I began writing because of Katelin. Entering my freshman year of high school, there was no other way to express my feelings of infatuation and wonderment to this beautiful girl with the golden eyes. As a very young and inexperienced lover, I was inept in the art of speaking to girls, and so writing was the best way for me to communicate with Katelin… and communicate, I did. I would alter my route to class just to slip a poem into her hand and brush her lovely arm. I was amazed by her beauty, by her eyes, and by her air. I soon realized that writing to her, writing about her, made me “love” her more and more. The more I saw words such as beautiful and eyes and the more I wrote about her sandy brown hair, the more I grew to care for her and appreciate things about her. Writing to her and writing about her took those feelings that were inside me and made them visible in the form of words on a page. And that was beautiful.

Come junior year, she’d broken my heart for the second or third time, and my writing changed as a result. Tone changed, mood changed, perspective changed. Many things changed, but those feelings of love and heartbreak were ever present inside me, and were in great need of being expelled and put down on paper to be seen and shared. Yes, my poems were creative, and no, they were not “prose”… but they were as non-fictional as it gets. Feelings can lead us astray, but they are real, and they must be released and allowed to either bloom into something breathtakingly beautiful, as is the hope, or wilt into something pitiful and shameful.

After Katelin, I wrote because of Lucy. Lucy wrote with me, wrote for me, and thirsted for anything I could write for her to read. She read me. She encouraged me to continue to delve into words, find their meaning, and allow them to flow out with tact. I began to discover the different ways in which words can be combined into something truly beautiful and worth sharing. I enjoyed writing for her. I wanted to match that of Poe, of Tolkien, and Keats. I wanted to harness the emotion that songwriters like Bob Dylan and Ray LaMontagne generate in their lyrics.

These feelings, conflicts, and beauties within me and around me yearn to be released and allowed to grow into the beautiful things they are. I write because I feel. I feel because I live. And oftentimes, I live most when I write. The words on the page are proof of my beating heart.

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