Why do I write?

It is a fair question to ask. Some write for the money and others write to show off what they know. I, like many others, write because I can't help myself. When I write, there is no one else inserting their ideas of how things should be or work. I create the world where new creatures and characters come to life, who either steal my heart or terrify me. When I write, no one else can follow unless I allow them to do so. I am free to explore new world after new world without having to sell a kidney to afford it.

Galaxies are at my fingertips as I write. The stars guide me from one planet to another as I fly through time and space. When I write, I feel as though I am in a kayak fighting against a raging river of words as I try to desperately place them where they belong. When I write, I have no responsibilities. I only have to hold on tight as the story takes me where I need to go.

Without writing, my heart would beat without any rhythm. Without writing, my mind would shrivel from lack of exploration. Without writing, each breath would lack the beauty of life. For me, writing is a necessity of life. If I am gone from it for too long, it seeks me out, begging me to pay attention to it. And I listen. Every time, I listen. So, in the end, why do I write? It is my escape, but also my own padded cell.