I write to entertain myself, to give myself a chance to play, to play in a world where anything is possible, a world where I am in control. I write because I enjoy it. I enjoy dreaming up alternate realities, fantasies, and nightmares. I enjoy imagining every scene imaginable.

         I write because it’s my best form of communication—not to say that I cannot communicate verbally—writing just makes it easier to connect with others. I believe in energy, and sometimes the aura of the people I’m with does not align with my own. Sometimes there’s a disconnect. But writing always allows me to connect on a deeper level.

         I write to learn, and I write to empower, and I write to have a place that’s comfortable. I write because often the page feels more like home to me, no matter what page I’m on. Sure, it may be difficult; I’ll run into obstacles, and I won’t know where to go. Writer’s block can be a bitch when I’m trying to get started, but somehow that’s okay. It doesn’t matter. I still do it. I do it because it’s unbearable not to. It makes me irritable: not having a taste of words first thing in the morning and not being chalked full of them by night, whether they’re my own or someone else’s. I enjoy reading as much as the writing act itself; I believe they go hand in hand. Because you can’t write well if you don’t read what you’re interested in.

         I write because I’m a night owl that likes to create music; just listen to what you’re reading. I like to write in a variety of ways, using a combination of short-, medium-, and long-length sentences. It’s this way that the writing sings. Sings! It’s what makes writing magical.

         I write because I believe in intuition, and I will continue to write because I know what it’s capable of. It’s cathartic. It’s my emotional release from trauma that shouldn’t have happened, and it helps me spot when good or bad are nearing, when my emotions are spiraling out of control. People think psychics aren’t real, that fiction is make-believe. But I say: Guess again. By a day or two or few, I know that writing is friendly, that it’s just trying to help, help by guiding me, by giving me signs so I know if I’m slipping or even just by letting me feel a little. I write because this—all of this—is magical. It’s endearing, like the way your significant other seems to cast a spell on you as soon as your eyes meet theirs.

         But perhaps most of all, I write because writing is loyal. It has never led me astray. Every time I feel the need to write a certain scene, or make a certain thing happen, I’m soon to realize after I decipher it that there was more truth behind those words than I ever hoped to convey. It’s true when psychologists say the subconscious mind is a powerful thing. It allows me to uncover things—feelings or fears or aspirations—that I didn’t even know I had or were present.

         Writing is my greatest joy.