I write before anything else in the morning. When I don’t, it shows.

I write when I am blue. It helps me unravel my twisted thoughts.

I write when I am happy. It underscores and documents the good times.

I write whenever I can. I write to fix. I write to learn. I write to develop.

This is my way.

I write because I can’t imagine a better way besides reading to spend my alone time.

I write because it’s an escape. I write because it is a discovery.

I write with a pen in my journal because I relish writing in script. I write manually because I love the sound of the pen to paper as it rolls out its gel. I write by hand because it is the quickest way to my heart and mind. I write on leaves of wood because I love stationery.

I write because I don’t have to do it. I write because it’s not on my to do list. In this way, it seems sweeter like a treat and it helps me go inside and unfold out.

My heart and soul pours out on the page and sometimes it’s just noise that needs to come out.

I write because there is realization in unloading your deepest darkest secrets.

I write because it’s a conversation with my inner critic but also my highest self.

I write because I release the garbage, distractions and nonsense in my head.

I write because it is authentically true, there’s no limiting or editing, I learn who I am and what makes me tick, what turns me off and it helps me sort out my feelings.

It is a sacred relationship.

I write because it’s the most intimate, personal form of expression I know.

I write because it spells things out for me.

I write because I admire writers and artists most.

I write because it’s a pastime I adore and cherish. When I write effortlessly it brings me joy. When it is frustrating, it lets me know something is wrong.

It is a practice. It is the most meaningful way I connect.