I guess I should explain why I write. I give full credit to @Cheeto for sparking this post. Go check out their blog, A Bag Of Cheetos!
Writing has always been a part of my life, but I never fell in love with it until Third Grade. It was around Thanksgiving, so we had to write a story about a turkey who didn't want to get eaten. Now that I think about it, the whole prompt was super cheesy, but it was the first writing assignment that I enjoyed.
Many of my reasons—actually, all of my reasons—for writing aren't the brightest, but they're still reasons.
I'm not good at expressing my feelings or emotions out loud, but on paper, I can do wonders. Maybe it's the fact that people are so judgmental, or maybe it's because very few people understand me, but either way, speaking isn't my thing.
Penana is full of so many great people who are easy to relate to, while the friends I thought I had outside of this community turned out to be complete narcissists. I guess they were toxic. But anyway, they only cared for themselves. They would turn their backs on me and share secrets with others. When I joined Penana, I just wanted to fit in, you know? I wanted to find others who could relate and share my love for writing.
I am the kid who can disappear. I'm not noticed. Every once in a while, that tiny voice in my head says, "You don't matter" or "Nobody cares about you." And whenever that voice starts to speak, I start to believe it. Writing makes me feel like I matter. I feel recognized. I feel as though I can make a change in the world.
Of course, I started writing because of my overflowing imagination, just like pretty much any other writer. But the reasons above are the most... problematic, you could say.
So... yeah. That's my sob story about writing in a nutshell. Maybe I'll do a post about my effed up friend life sometime later.
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