When I started to love writing, I really couldn’t say. But I started enjoying reading by the time I learned how to read. However, it doesn’t always follow that people who love to read also love to write. Sometimes they just don’t or sometimes they won’t.
Whenever I write, it’s like an unconscious thing, a dream, though I’m awake. I’m taken into this different world where I can feel other things and see how beautiful things are then the words just attach themselves to each other and form statements and they make sense (well sometimes they don’t but still… you get the point.)
Why do I write? Most of the time, I write for myself, unless required by someone else to. There is clarity when I see my thoughts right in front of me. Aside from seeing my wrong grammars, it shows me when my thoughts are flawed, when they’re geniuses and when they are nonsense, and I love them all. I’m not perfect but I will never use that as an excuse to write irresponsibly, but then I understand when there will be times that I may write irresponsibly out of emotions and I have to forgive myself. Because, I am writing for myself – to release my thoughts, to understand myself better, to explore my imagination, to express my emotions, to share my blessings – and if other people see something in the stuff I write, I know then that the thread in the universe’s web is still intact and we are still connected and bound to each other by our thoughts, our emotions and our situations, even in a little fraction of each. (: