Why do you write?

Many things we do in life are rooted in either pain or passion. Sometimes they overlap.

I started writing because of pain… I write today because I’m passionate about it.

When I was younger, I was terribly shy. Especially around girls. Or adults. Or anyone I hadn’t met before. It was actually rather crippling. It wasn’t the cute, “Aww, that 4-year-old is hiding behind his mom’s leg.”

It was more like, “Why was that 11-year-old child staring at me, and when he noticed me looking, why did he slowly slink into the shadows?”

I did things like hike my gym shorts dangerously high and think tall white socks were cool well before it was socially acceptable.

If I ever ran for president, newscasters across the nation would address their audiences feverishly, “Do you think a man who used to tuck hooded sweaters into his jeans is fit to run this country?”

The answer is no, people. Definitely not.

Growing up, I would spend the better half of every day steeped in novels. Partly because I loved to let my imagination run wild, and partly because I didn’t have to be in uncomfortable social situations that I didn’t know how to handle.

When I was younger, my mind worked faster than my mouth could, so I found myself unable to properly communicate what I wanted to. Which left me ashamed, especially if it was in front of someone I didn’t know.

So I took to writing because I could communicate the way I wanted to without being embarrassed.

When I wrote, I sounded beautiful for the first time.

As a teenager, I came out of my shell and felt a lot more socially comfortable. Although I still really dislike parties where I don’t know anyone… makes me super uncomfortable.

Occasionally I’ll see myself 11 years old again, frozen by timidity. That’s why I started writing. To have a voice. By now, my voice has matured enough to be paired with a few gray hairs and herbal tea. But deep down there are still those memories of why I started. Feeling voiceless and ashamed.

When I think about it, sometimes it pushes me. Sometimes it makes me feel embarrassed that I went through that. But every time, I reach the same conclusion: I wouldn’t be the same person I am today had I not gone through it.