Why Do I Write?

I’ve often been asked, “Why do you feel the need to write?” or, “Is it necessary to waste time?”, “You could’ve studied during this time.”

Throughout the course of one’s life, each one of us strives for something which he likes, something which he wants to achieve, and something which makes his heart feel at peace. And each one of us tries so much hard, and it is so time taking that we all somewhere, sometimes, in a phase of our life, we end up giving up. We all try so hard and yet it is no guarantee that you will, obviously, win. No proof, no surety that you will hopefully find one thing that makes you feel at peace.

And I found it. Striving, Yearning, Searching each and every part of my soul, to have a single thing I could call my passion. Something which I could proudly brag about. Something which doesn’t depend on my grades. It should never be a symbol of what I can do But What I am. Not the scale of how successful I can be but How far can I go. And so I found writing. The emotions getting the best of me and my soul longing to express.

The most heartfelt, genuine, sincere feelings could be portrayed in the best way: Words. I, myself, at times want to be heard. My words, my emotions, I don’t want them to be wasted. I, myself, feel the need to be consoled. My feelings shouldn’t be thrown away. And so I write. And, every now and then, I tell myself that I’m not alone. Someone is there on my side and those are words. The series of most true expressions explained in the best way possible. Just the way I want and just the way my heart accepts it. And so I write.

When I am drowning in the ocean of sadness or flying in the clouds of happiness, whether I am hidden under the burden of guilt or whether I am shining on the pinnacle of confidence, I need to be heard and so I write. We writers, My dear, We dive into the darkness of regret and breathe through the air of hope. We go through the same what you go through, but only we choose to express.

We have the nerves to speak about what we are going through. Not everyone has the power to do so. And We find light in the darkness of that seabed. We collect pearls, lying in that dark cave of water. We find it hard to breathe in that chilly aqua, fused with the moisture of bitterness, a pinch of restlessness and vulnerability. We tend to cry under that blanket of sweat but we fight, we break our soft petals to achieve our thorns and we resist the termites to eat us up from inside. AND SO WE WRITE. This is WHY I WRITE.

By Urwa Shahbaz