I write because I’m alone.
I write because I’m lonely.
I write because I’m bored.
Mundane tasks. Sun rises, sun sets.
I’ve got no one to talk to.
My best friends are a pen and paper.
They don’t judge me.
They get it.
They give me comfort
no human has ever given.
They let me escape
from time to time.
A freedom I’ve never felt before.
A break from a thousand chains.
A chance to say what I want.
To control my world, finally.
Not for money.
Not for fame.
But to live, to breathe,
to feel something in this goddamn world.
To keep going.
To not lose my mind,
to escape the pain.
A hope for something.
Even lonely, the gods are here,
whispering what I need to say.
As if they know more than I do.
As if they’re the only ones who listen.
I don’t write because I want to.
I write because I need to.
If it can erase the things
I can\'t control,
so be it.
That’s why I write.
Until I stop,
until I’m done.