Many reasons why we write.
Maybe mostly we write when we are sad. When we are bored. When we have experienced happiness. When we desire validation. Each like or comment or follow flickers our insides in some way or another. And it’s a positive. Certainly that is a type of way we do life too. We want people to like what we say and even when we do nice things, it’ll be okay if someone notices and says, “Hey, Good job”. That’s humanity.
We all have our struggles.
Some of you are going through university doing your best .Some of you are hurting in your relationship. Family disputes, bosses, fellow employees. There is usually always something we have going on in our life that’s a negative.
And sometimes we write about it.
The way I see it, negatives mean something to us or else we wouldn’t care or feel about it. Things are easy to shrug off when there are no attachments, no values, no feel for it.
We can’t really turn that off. We can possibly redirect it. But even then, we’re still going to feel bad about what makes us feel bad. Because that’s our core. That’s who we are.
Some of us are trying to figure out life. Like me.
About who we are and what we stand for. Sometimes we go through huge cliff jumping changes and we get disorientated and lost and we just want to love and be free from all our faults and poor choices of our past.
And we can understand that it is not a fast overnight change. That it will take months, if not years to fully re-position ourselves.
And sometimes that isn’t fast enough. We want to jump to that part so speaking becomes easier and better and jumping through hoops and not just screwing up,but screwing up the SAME screw up- isn’t part of your life. Because you just feel tangled. You feel foreign to life simply because you are who you want to be now, but who you were smudges the edges and brings the image of you and the idea of you, into an oddly disfigured creature. Is THAT who I am?
I’m still chained to my past. Habits break out and I hate them. I don’t want them but they happen. Addictions that I never thought were, still make there appearance even now. After how much I’ve been wanting and willing and HAVE, changed. They still exist. And it completely bops me off my rocker.
How the fook are they still there when I want nothing to do with them?
I feel better.
Hmm, maybe we all just write because it feels better.