Why do I write? I'm yet to determine the answer. It could be some sort of release, therapy if you will. It's like I've gotten something in me that must just come out. And I bleed when I hold it back. Been bleeding since 2002.
Or it could be some sort of vanity, a need to show the world that I matter, that I count. What better way to display the intelligence you feel you've been bestowed extra portions of than to write? You tell me.
Or could it be that I just enjoy writing, and I write for writing's sake? Perhaps it's my salvation, my oasis in a desert called daily monotony. My way out, my way up. I'd better write more then.
Or could it just be that I write coz I have no one to talk to? They say man is a social animal, so perhaps my writings are my way of relating to the herd of mankind. Where's the herd going? Bleat if you know the answer.
At the end of the day I write. C'est fini. That's what counts. I write. Therefore you read (I hope).
