by Miss Anita

Created on: June 24, 2009   Last Updated: July 17, 2009

I began writing many years ago when I was a child. At the time, I didn't know why I was doing it, or why it would later become so important to me. At the time, I simply wrote to escape.

I have recently begun writing again. Since I'm older and less afraid of the words, I am now able to let others read what has always been hidden. For me, the question is more than why I write; but more specifically, why I write again.

When people ask me why I write, I have always said, "I write because I need to breathe. I write because I need to feel... something. I write because I need something to affect me." All of that remains very true. But, as I've gotten older, I also write to remember. It's still the best way that I know of to keep up with the random thoughts and ideas in my head.

As a child, I didn't have many outlets. I wasn't able to express myself the way other children could, with sports or other activities. I didn't know how to express what was happening to me, so I hid. I hid from the world and I hid in my books. The type of book was irrelevant. The topic could be anything and everything. It didn't matter as long as it was a book.

At some point (I don't remember when), I suddenly realized I could get everything out of me if I wrote it out. Writing words on a page literally became my breath. An event, a situation, a memory... all of it could be "written" out of me. What a concept, but it worked. It allowed me to actually breathe for the very first time since I could remember. I was finally free.

Books became my soul mate (I hate that expression). I could experience so many different places and worlds without effort. My imagination soared and I needed more. I needed to be able to get all of the fun, crazy, silly, serious, painful stuff that was in my head out. It began to come out in poems and my "moments in time" and "random thoughts". It began to release me from my prison, from myself.

Writing gives me a voice- the right to have a say or an opinion. It gives me the ability to speak out, and allows me to object to what has been done to me or to others. It lowers the walls and allows the silence to escape.

Now, I also write to give my daughter the opportunity to know me. I want her to see my heart, my thoughts, my knowledge, and also my past. I want her to read about my mistakes, and how I overcame them. I write to let her in. And sometimes, yes, to breathe.

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