I write for the poor, the humble, for those that aren't afforded a voice. I write to play. I write to lose myself, my mind. I write to see the past, to record it. I write to depict, to never lose the view out my window. I write to surprise myself. I write out of worry, suspense, and laughter. I write to please, but also to move away from self-conscious production. I write to love. I write that I may never perish, live & agile in memories of friends. I write in lows to raise me up. I write to fill my book, to use countless pages. I write in liberty, in justice. I write to free my hand from the walls between it and my mind, as a ladder to climb. I write to grow, like trees into forests, and those into worlds. I write to create. I write because I am consumed in the art, like cloud to breeze. I write to impress myself, to gain confidence. I write in presents, on cardboard, napkins, envelopes, shards of post-it. I write I love you's on my lovers back as we drift away into sleep. I write to dream. I write to pull the impossible to earth, to make it human. I write because it knows no bounds. I write knowing there is no feeling like pen to page, and how very suave a good pen feels, the way it flows across a pad effortlessly, almost as if it is doing the writing. I write to find myself. And I write because I can't escape the passion, nor would I ever want to.
