#47 Why I write…

Sometimes you can’t explain what you feel. Sometimes it takes months or years to finally figure it out.

Sometimes you hate that you feel a way, but you can’t stop it. It creeps up inside you and by the time you realize it, it’s already out, ruining the moment, the day, the month.

Sometimes you feel euphoric like you can take on the world. Bring it on, you say. Bring it on. It doesn’t last long though. The next day you might go back to thinking: where did I go wrong?

Sometimes you go to the movies, to a concert, you find distractions, some great, some inspiring, some unhealthy, some destructive. You find a way to understand yourself, to understand the world, to understand why you can’t be bothered.

Sometimes you decide to throw it all up in the air and decide to be normal, whatever that may be. Get a job, a family, things…Things are great to get. Until you’ve forgotten why you got it in the first place and it’s either tucked away in your storage space or out on display at a yard sale.

Family is great until you realize it doesn’t come with an expiration date. You’ve got deal with it every single day.

A job is awesome until you find yourself staring at your computer screen asking yourself if you did something crazy, would anybody notice?

Sometimes you’ve got questions and no answer. Sometimes you’ve got both but usually none of the answers fit the questions. Sometimes you lie. Sometimes you tell the truth.

Sometimes you laugh. Sometimes you cry.

Sometimes the people closest to you are those who least understand you. And all it takes is a good book or a good film to feel understood. To feel understood by a complete stranger.

It’s beautiful. And sometimes beautiful moments are all we have. Sometimes beautiful stories are all we have. To feel understood. To feel alive.

That is why I write.

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2 thoughts on “#47 Why I write…

  1. Ah, bugger: I can not enlarge the picture!
    How much do I wanna have a peek at the book titles in the BG…and oh yes, please! A closer look at the image with your dad and The Kid there…
    Unfulfilled dreams are the nicest dreams, no?
    Bidsous!
    S.

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