Originally written on 22 Oct 09 Thursday
I write, because at times it is safer than speaking. I write, because it is always easier than saying things out loud. I am terrified of public speaking. I write to love. I write to hate. I write when I am afraid. I write to feel brave. Writing feels safe. I write to be close. I write to keep my distance. I write to entertain, to create laughs and giggles. I write to inform. I write to communicate. I write an annual "family newsletter." I write for celebrations. I write to express condolences. I write to see inside my own head and heart. I write to keep things to myself. I write to cook. I write to clean. I write to be dirty. I write to be naughty.... I write, because it can be dangerous. I write to feel free, to spin around in circles, arms outstretched, face turned up to the sun. I write to feel passion. I write to inspire. I write to remember to be inspired. I write for sweet smelling flowers. Sometimes I write numbers. I write to pay bills. I write, because I didn't go to college and get my own career. I write, because I don't want to go to college. I write, because my husband can't spell. I write, because I love the melodic flow of my pen across the paper. I write, because I love words like "onomatopoeia." I write colors, smells, sights, feelings. I write, because that is what I'm driven to do. I write songs. I write emotions. I write for the public. I write for the utmost privacy. I write respect. I write compliments. I write scathing insults. I write for spite. I write hugs. I write kisses. I write "dot dot dot." I write flowing brooks, rustling leaves, and pungent aromas. I write driving rains, ominous clouds, and foreboding fogs. I write on the run. I write in the sand. I once wrote on my desk at school. I write expressions. I write meditations. I write dreams. I write heartaches. I write loving memories. I write for the love of friends. I write for my children. I write for my husband. I write for the ones I love. I write, because I love.
