Personal Essay: How Writing Changed My Life

We are, as a species, addicted to stories. Even when the body goes to sleep, the mind stays up all night, telling itself stories. The idea is not new - that (when all’s said and done) everything we are is just that - stories. That’s what keeps us from going mad - the stories we tell each other. The stories we tell ourselves. And this is what will be remembered after we pass away.

I’m just playing with these characters, I used to say; I’m putting them back when I’m done. As if I could. As if writing about someone doesn’t make them real to you. As if I didn’t know the truth of it - you can’t write about people and then put them back, because now you’ve bled all over them, and they are, in a way, yours forever; the good and the bad.
I write because I’m a doomed dreamer that wants to save everybody and show the world I was given that

To make a mark on this world, and forget it may not mean anything in the end. To bring back the magic that the world stopped believing in. Writing helps me get back the parts of me that life never gave back.
I want to be there for those who don’t have anyone else. To take the meanderings of scattered thought and give it voice, turn the intangible into something I can grasp. I want to drive people to emotional heights that they’ve never reached before, scream, cry, laugh until their sides ache and smile until their face is sore. I want to inspire complete strangers, show people that life can be so much more. Because writing is an art that can touch the heart in places where no painting or music could ever reach, I write for the off chance that I can create something more than words on a page.
I write because I want to record all my memories, even the ones that never happened. I write because I’m in love, alone, happy, sad, because I can feel, and because I can’t. Written words have always been there when spoken words have failed me, and I want to share that with the