I write because I want to reach the end of my imagination and then break through it. Writing helps me lose or find myself, depending on what I need to feel, and when I need to feel it … it gives me the chance to live thousands of lives in thousands of realities, exploring every possible scenario no matter how grandiose or minuscule it might be. Through the order I put my words on paper, I can create everything and look from the eyes of it all.
To me, writing is a superpower like no other; it can be art, it can be a simple instruction or it can be a weapon. I write not because it gives me the power of a god, but because it makes me feel human. I write because I should, I write because I can, because I must. I have tried not writing on purpose, and I didn’t last long; writing is an itch that can be scratched only by itself. It’s a question and an answer at the same time. I write because it helps me live, not simply exist. I love it. I hate it. I am disappointed in it, and I am also proud of it. Writing is a mental mirror, an extension of yourself that helps you communicate with the pure reflection of what your soul is.
As in any art or passion for art, it stimulates the senses. I can touch my characters through a word, a sense, and even a smell. I see a smile, a glimpse of color, a frown, the way one stands, and recognize a character. I pick my character from my mind and heart, but I write from a stream that flows from beyond me or deep within me.
I write to discover myself. The words I put down tell the tale my speech can never seem to capture.