Some people write to leave something behind, after them. To never die. To be immortal. To be heard. To be distinguished from others. To matter their own way. It is not why I do it. But I guess everyone is different.
I started this blog a month ago, because I was lost, and I thought writing would help me feel less alone. It did. It gave me an occupation, something new to create, to care about. Writing is like a friend, but it’s also a part of you. It could be your best friend, sometimes it is, but I think, to me at least, that it’s not enough. It’s too much of a part of me to be my best friend. I don’t want to be my own best friend. I have real best friends for that. So, that’s not it.
When I write stories, it’s different. My characters are alive. They breath through me, they think (by themselves, most of the time ^^), they love, they hurt, they discover. They inspire me. How is it? Since I create them, how can they inspire me? Does it mean I inspire myself? I’m not that self-centered to think that. I think it’s more like, when I write, I take inspiration somewhere, and this is this inspiration that inspire me again through my characters. Does that make sense? I think it does. I don’t like to be praised for my writing because it’s not only me. We are all created by our surroundings, and I think it’s the same when we write. We take a little of this, a little of that, we mix it our own way, and boom! Okay these are my words and my stories, but I rewrite feelings I have felt or want to feel. Based on something I have lived, I have think, I have feel. Nothing’s new. Or is it? I don’t think it’s still possible to create new things, our world is too old. But I think we describe things from a different point of view. And this is new. This is why writing is so interesting and still different and beautiful. Because we all have something to say and feel in our own different way.
Why do we write? To create, to inspire, to feel. The basics of life.
We write to live.