My first memory of writing was in the form of a written apology I slipped under my parent’s bedroom door. I don’t know what I did, but I felt bad. I couldn’t (still can’t) find the words to say something to my parents. I sat down in my room and a calm voice in my head told me to grab a piece of paper and write a letter of apology.
I remember why I kept on writing. It was my way of thinking about all the things that happened that day – being around a lot of people for hours puts a lot of pressure on my brain, physically and mentally… writing is my way of answering “what the fuck happened today?” .. being around a lot of people for hours means more voices/noises in my head – what did he say, the way she said that, how did I answer, perhaps I should’ve done that instead of this, what did I do wrong? … etc
I guess it’s a way of organizing my thoughts, to calm my mind down, to slow down the flow of the world around me, to quiet the noises/voices in my head …
As cliched as it might sound, I write to be who I really am without the restrictions of others and without the limitations of time.