I write because its in my blood. As a matter of fact it's in my soul. I write to relieve stress. I am powerless, until my fingers and palm unite with a page and create harmonious justice to my mind. My thoughts are cluttered with woe, beyond my control. Writing is the therapy I never received as a child or an adolescence. I brace myself to read something I have written after venting aimlessly on a page. I feel consumed by guilt and pleasure from revealing my deepest inhibitions. I write to keep my sanity in a world filled with dismay and destruction. I feel powerless to another being, but powerful to a pen, a pencil, a crayon, a marker and the keyboard beneath my fingertips. I write so passionately that in the moment of the last period of a sentence, I draw a deep breath. I write so intimately, I hold my breath, saving oxygen to feeds my spewing thoughts. I write because If I didn't write, I would die. I write because its the life of me. If I hate everything about me, I would never go wrong with the fingertips that possess my body and coincide with my conscience. I write vicariously.