I write because there isn’t always someone there to listen, but I want to talk anyway. I write because it forces me to actually think about what I thought I understood. I write because I can fool myself sometimes, but not when it’s sitting in front of me.
I write because of a handful of comments I’ve received from peers, who’ve said, “Man, I think the stuff you write is really interesting, I’m impressed”. I write because of all the comments I haven’t received. I write because I know people I respect occasionally read it, and I want them to think of me as a mythical manbeast who walks with his head held high. I want them to think of me as someone who is or one day might be important in the grand scheme of something … anything. I want to imply depth, insight and jaw-dropping humanity.
I write because of the time someone sat in my lap and said straight to my face, “So I read your blog the other day, I really liked the one you wrote about originality.” I write on the off chance that someone I know or someone I don’t will be instantly entranced, that I will transform from “just another guy” into an intellectual and emotional powerhouse with high earning potential who’s probably a lot of fun behind closed doors.
I write because it’s a world that’s entirely of my own creation. I write because I get to call blog posts whatever I want, and I chose chapters. I write because while my memory isn’t perfect, a SQL table tends to be.
I write because I’m an introvert who doesn’t always say what he thinks, but tends to think what he says. I write because Notepad has always understood me. I write because I can occasionally turn a phrase that sticks in at least my head. I write because the act of furiously typing out a thought can put me into a sleep sounder than any caused by physical exhaustion.
I write so that years from now I can sit reading silly words and phrases and smile to myself, because I remember.