May 14, 2014

I write.

I write because I want to say things to you but I can't say them out loud and so I hide them in words and images that only make sense to me, or maybe they make sense to you but what I write and what you read are not the same thing so it doesn't matter.

I write because sometimes words want to be placed next to each other just to see how they look or sound, and because it's fun to see them next to each other, looking or sounding kind of cool even if they don't mean anything at all.

I write to remind myself of things, because I have a pretty shitty memory and one day I can look back at these words and remember that there was a time when it was just me and the spider in the insulation and the polytarp super-six in the basement, fingers tap tap tapping on computer keys in the dark. Trapped, crumpled and helpless, suffocating (the spider, not me).

I write because I cannot draw or paint or sing.

I write to create pictures out of words, but not the kinds of pictures with descriptions of furniture or landscape or weather; I write to create pictures of thoughts and feelings and ideas, which aren't really pictures at all, I guess.   

I write because I must resolve my daddy issues and because his absence is a presence and because I want him to be proud of me even though he will likely never read these words. And I write because I  must resolve my mommy issues and because her presence is an absence and I want her to be proud of me even though she will likely never be able to read these words with any real comprehension.

I write because sometimes I am my own favourite writer.

And I write because I have always been writing, even when I haven't.