Why I dare to write.

My soul cannot ache on its own.

I dare to write because life feels like the sound of sirens, over- stimulating and deafening, refusing to be dismissed.

I write because the wide-eyed child in me aches for her innocent soul to be heard… understood, only melancholy as her childhood best friend.

I write because life’s events have me reeling, and I’d rather be a spectacle for the world than to leave a deep, hollow void, living in vain.

I write to make sense of my aching heart, that loved too hard, asks for too little and wants to give a voice to the quiet resentment it’s carried for far too long.

I write for the potential in me that aches to be heard. To dive deep and be engulfed by something larger than myself, and hold my breath as I expose myself to the seething, scalding fire of failure and rejection, in the name of self expression.

I write because my heart holds secrets that I can’t dare to utter blatantly, so I swirl my truths into esoteric tales that any soul can hear the bells of truth within.

I write to create beauty from my pain. To paint giant angel wings on my words and to allow them to float up and up and up until they are otherworldly. On the other hand, I write to create a window of vulnerability from my pain, dragging my words into the bleak, fiery depths of hell, because there’s truth in imagination.

I write because it feels like a warm, all-encompassing hug. When my heart is worn out from being borrowed, I write. When I’ve cried so hard that my mascara stained cheeks grow red, I write. When I’m trapped in sleepless nights of trepidation, I write. When I can’t hold the secrets I long to whisper to my lover in my heart any longer, I write. When I’m dying to make sense of the stories sprinkled into my life up until this moment, I write.

Whether the whole world hears, or it’s only my phantoms that will bother to listen to my whispered fears, I still dare to write.

Thank you for taking the time to read my work, I hope it resonated with your soul.

Kind regards,

My Soul and I