Why I write.

I don't even know why I'm writing this in the first place.

Its been partially covered already in the old blog. That was a point when I wondered if writing was some form of narcissism on my part. Just becasue I can use big words and have good structure, I write, just to show the world the genius that I am. Or something along those lines. I'm not quite sure where that came from either. One of the sillier soul-searching endevours I've had, I suppose.

Now I ask again, who do I write? For some reason, writing is the first thing I think of when dealing with negative emotions. Anger, depression, sometimes sadness. They all give me this strange impulse to write. It doesn't do much in terms of dealing with the emotions. Most of the time, I'm left exactly where I was before.

It could be entirely possible that writing is just a way for me to organize my thoughts. A bit like the pensive pool that Dumbledore has, really. Too many things on my mind, so I write them down and try to sort them out. That could be true.

But then again, I sometimes find myself with nothing to write, but needing to write. Sounds a bit off, I know, but thats what I feel. I grasp for topics to write about, and end up posting some lame stuff on the blog or some little story that I will start but never really finish.

I remember this status message. "I write because I believe". I wish this were true for me. I probably used to do just that. I had a sense of righteous conviction in my writing, a sense of confidence that I was ultimately right. My writing was a challenge to prove me wrong. It had a sense of purpose.

I can't do that anymore. I realize that it makes this blog incredibly boring. That would make me boring. And yes, I know that this trend has been happening for some time now. Pensive, reflective writing just isn't very engaging now is it?

But I realize that I never did answer the question on why I write. I don't know. Maybe it needs no answer.