But… what to say? I’ve thought long and hard about this question and I do think I managed to answer that question with another: Why do I write?
That seems a decent subject to write about, doesn’t it? Why do I write?
In the beginning I wrote to entertain. I listened, no, I obeyed readers their wishes and wrote accordingly. No surprise that I myself didn’t like it. I stopped listening to the few readers I chose, for the most part anyway, and began to write in order to capture and draw out emotion. I wanted to put myself on paper and make people laugh or cry or anything really. I wanted the readers to feel more than sheer cold. I still do, by the way, and get Very happy when someone says he or she cried during a sad part of a story of mine, so far I’ve only heard it being said once though. You know who you are.
But something’s different now, I found a reoccurring theme in my works: death. I wanted to write down death and all its mysteries. I even tried to write about it without even realising.
I’ll admit I have a dear fondness for death and I personally wish to die, I even tried to take my own life on several occasions, needless to say they didn’t work.
My suicide period was in middle school, I tried to kill myself more times than you can imagine and those thoughts never completely left me, hell, I even have them while I write this. But there is one difference between now and then: I write now. My characters experience the death I so desire.
So, why do I write?
I write to summon emotion, I write to capture the essence of death but most importantly, I write so I can live.
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