I write because I want to leave a part of myself behind when I go.
I want people to remember that I was capable of beautiful things, even though sometimes I was capable of ugly things too.
I write because sometimes I feel alone, like no one will listen,
and in those times all that is there for me is that dark ink and that paper, white as innocence and unprejudiced.
I write because it takes me away to other worlds and lets me be the creator. It lets me have a choice in how things go for once.
I can choose who and where and what, and, most importantly, why.
I write because I am good at it,
and why would you not do something that you can do well?
I write because it lets me express myself in one of the only ways that I can,
with complex feelings that are attached to something so simple as a written character.
But, most importantly and the most simple reason of all, I write because I like it.
I love it, actually.