Sometimes I Write.

Thoughts on writing.

I write.
Sometimes I write for me.
Sometimes I write for you.
Sometimes I write just to make sure my brain remembers how to make the right shapes on the page in the right order.

But I write.
Sometimes I write for me.
Because for me, writing helps me understand me.
Who the hell am I?
What the hell do I stand for?
Why is this getting so dramatic suddenly?
That’s just who I am.

Sometimes I write for me to find my voice.
Then I remember I have plenty of voices.
Indoor voice, outside voice.
Performing voice, serious-talk voice.
I’ve been making other voices for years.
All for a laugh, and because I can.
My voice is always there, but sometimes it sounds like other voices.
No matter how loud or soft, my voice is still there.

Sometimes I write for me.
But other times, I write for you.
You, the invisible you.
The future crowd of people waiting to hear me speak.
The imaginary crowd at a comedy club, wanting to be entertained.
The person reading this on your iPhone, iPad, laptop.
The friends who helped mould me, I in turn write to amuse you.
The family who raised me, I write to make you proud.
I write because I can, a privilege given to me by my upbringing, class, and societal status.

I write to remind myself that I’m still learning.
It took me three tries to spell “privilege” correctly up there.
Thanks, computer.

Sometimes I write for me.
Sometimes I write for you.
Sometimes I write nonsense. Sentences that no one has ever constructed before.
“John Kennedy sure looked good in that tutu out on the rugby field.”
“No, I think the only thing I want from Thanksgiving dinner is the brussel sprouts”
You know, things like that.

Sometimes I write for me.
Sometimes I write for you.
But still, I will write.
Right?

  1. I have said that I only things I want from Thanksgiving Dinner is the brussle sprouts, sorry

    Like

    Reply

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