I write for myself

I write for myself, first and foremost. It’s probably one of the only things I truly just do for myself, not thinking how others are going to feel about it, or how they will see it.

I write because it helps me. It keeps me company, it keeps me sane. I write because it helps me fill the void I have inside and disguise the loneliness and the pain that keep on hunting me.

I write because if I can’t talk to anyone I have to be able to at least talk to myself. Writing keeps me focused, forces me to think and “say” what I don’t want to or am not confortable with.

I happen to believe that writing doesn’t have to be a gift or a talent. It doesn’t have to be neat, and clear and perfect… it just have to be honest.

Different people will read into things differently, no matter what. They may interpreter something you wrote in ways you never thought about, and I like that. I don’t mind if what I write is not exactly what people see when they read it. If they find a new meaning for it, if it helps them, if somehow they can connect to it, that’s great.

I write for myself, first and foremost, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate other people’s interest in my work. I write for myself, but if on top of that I can get the thrill of touching someone’s soul, that’s amazing!

Writing was a part of my “private little world” that in the past I wouldn’t dare to share with anybody. But time goes by, you grow up and realize that there are things no-one can take away from you, and that maybe some people deserve that you make the effort to show them a little bit more of who you truly are.

I write for myself and this sharing thing hasn’t come easily. I still have doubts and fears, but because I challenged myself to do it, I also know now that some people do appreciate this other side of me.