Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Why Do I Write?
Why do I write?
Because I must.
Because there are words.
Because there are people.
Because there are secrets.
Because the darkest spaces taste like fleece, and the quietest silences sound like rainbows, and happiness and unhappiness are both boots to the gut.
Why do I write?
Because I feel.
And because you do too.
Why do I write?
To dig out all the things I know without knowing, to live in all the places I cannot be, to see all the things that are not there.
Why do I write?
Because I can imagine that I can.
Because lightning struck late in life and nothing around me was ever again what it seemed.
Because what I invent is finally the truth.
Why do I write?
Because I get away with murder.
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