I write because I must.
I write to free myself from the entrapment of words.
I write because under my skin, words wait to break out, one letter at a time.
I write so that amorphous fleeting ideas could be given form, so that they may be alive, for left to themselves they would fade into oblivion as unknown unsung martyrs.
I write because this is the greatest form of expression I have known. This freedom of not having to hide, this bravado of uncovering the lid, this insanity of losing control. This is what I need.
I write so that, in some manner, my words would seep into your soul. Sometimes they might come with the silence of a stealthy cat, so that I could enter your mind and catch you by surprise when I stare right back at you. Sometimes they might march on with the strident sounds of a chainsaw ruthlessly cutting through stubborn trees, quashing all opposition. Sometimes they may hold you by your hand, and take you on a trip to a fantastic land where thoughts have crystallized into life.
I write, in the hope that my words may spur you on to take a trip to nowhere, immerse yourself in obscurity and find yourself back again.
I write, because some day, I would like to be remembered for my words. Just my words.
Writing anything in response to this, would take away its beauty!Thank you for your comment by the way:)
I never thought I could describe why I write. You came pretty close.
loved it, the thot, the words, the intent and the justification… everything, apart from the cat simile.swapnil.
Man, gotta say this – you’re good! Been browsing awhile now and I’m gonna be back for more! Take care, Malcolm, wherever in this fair country you may be!
Thanks for this, bro. Hope you like the other pieces on this blog too.
Yes, I do – this was a common message for the ones I’ve been thru so far
Your feedback came at a time when my confidence in my writing had ebbed a bit. Thanks for your comments and likes.
You found one of my best friends 🙂 He’s amazing isn’t it ?
Yup, for sure! 🙂
It’s a small world. 🙂