If you don't read it, then it never happened.

So why do I write?
All these scrawlings that if not here, would most certainly be on the walls if not lost to papers in books, never to be seen in the light of day. I'm clearly not in it for money,  I have yet to submit any of this delusional grandeur of mine to even be reviewed.

I have also watched the faces of people as they read what I write, and of what I have to say.

Watching the gears begin to turn as ideas and images are constructed and examined, to having my choice of words torn apart.
That is something I do enjoy.

But even that is not the reason why.
Some of my work I will admit is to garner opinions from terribly specific people. And everything else. Is for my own selfish reasons. I create because o enjoy creating. Bearing my soul unto a project and making it mine. If anyone else enjoys it, please by all means. Knock yourself out.

But this is for me. I cannot communicate myself as elegantly as I desire. I fail to stop and consider the world around me and simply go with the flow of mine hearts desire.
This has not always been within my favor.
Worse still. I am finding with age that I grow more frequently tied between my thoughts and actually voicing them.

But this is freedom here. On this wall I can bring to fruit the thoughts I cannot elsewise create or share.
Sometimes it is a cage of my own design. Others it's just the wind beneath my wings.

The why is simpler than all this textual diarrhea though.

It's simply because it's what I can do.
I don't need to be the best. But I get to be me.

Where else in the world does one get the same kind of freedom?