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I Write

Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing. – Benjamin Franklin

I write to entertain, to inform, to instruct, to confuse, to exasperate.
I write to open eyes and to obscure vision.
I write to bring clarity and to obfuscate truth.
I write to challenge, to irritate, to provoke, to piss off.
I write to fan the flames of emotion so they burn fiercely in hearts.
I write to make others think thoughts that might never be without the prodding of words.
I write to unleash peoples hidden demons in the hopes they generate the courage to conquer their fears.
I write to force people to face ideas they have been avoiding for ideas rule the hearts of man.
I write to push people out of their comfort zones so the tiny spaces they feel comfortable in expand to ever greater concentric circles.
I write to capture concepts poking at the periphery of my consciousness which, if not captured, are lost forever.
I write to crystallize amorphous thoughts into tangibles I can scrutinize, expand upon, and, perhaps, discard as pure folly.
I write because my spirit is driven to connect with the world, is painfully alone without other spirits for company.
I write for these and countless other reasons I both understand and cause me to be puzzled.
Primarily, I write because my soul is confused and I am desperate to understand myself.


One comment on “I Write

  1. give me a man with moobs, not pecs.

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