I figure, to write about my experiences is a very healthy way to learn who I truly am. Learning to be more self aware. When taking pen to paper and creating and being so deeply involved in all the many thoughts that seem to run through my mind is rewarding and fulfilling. To me this is the only way I know how to be, creative, verbal and to be an expressive human being.
I think how can I be so vulnerable in my creative life and lack those characteristics in my personal normal day to day life. As I know that I am learning and growing each and every day from all the many experiences that have occupied my life and still have and will continue to teach me. Every single day.
So I write about these experiences, in my notebooks and blog them for the world to see as I read them as many times as I’m willing. They bring up emotions I hadn’t already felt, or maybe the same emotions form but have me feeling something much deeper then before. Who wants to relive in that pain, the past, opening up those healed wounds and relish in the memories, a writer does. I do this.
Staying up late, writing, transforming my reality into fiction and realizing that as a writer I have experienced my level of pain, numbness, feelings of being broken, damaged, desperate, and perpetually alone. Then there’s the surprising moments of joy, accomplishment, love and the most amazing thing about my writing, Is no one will ever really know what it means to be the creator of such…
So I sit and write. Working through the many issues that life has given me, trying to become a better person, a more self-aware human being. So I can continue to write as true and freely as I need, want and should be.