I write to express the things I cannot actually speak. I may have these eloquent, beautiful or equally witty and hilarious comments and quips all planned out in my head- but somewhere between my firing neurons, the message gets lost and comes out haphazard and jumbled. It’s frustrating really- to feel like I cannot portray on the outside who I really am inside. It’s like there’s this light shining through me, but instead of seeing myself in it, I just see shadows. I am an imposter in my own skin. Except when I write. That is when I truly feel most like myself. The awkwardness that envelopes the daily me is shed, or perhaps it’s just less noticeable when I’m not tripping over my syllables.
In my writing I can pretend to be a girl that enthralls me, a person who has had adventure thrust upon her and rises to the challenge. With my words I can be the strong, stubborn woman I have hidden inside of me. I don’t have to be the girl who fumbles for the correct thing to say and turns bright red when something unexpected is tossed in her lap. In life I am quiet and reserved; but when I write, I am bold and outgoing.
I have worn a thousand different masks in my life, I have been a hundred different incarnations of the same girl- all within the twenty-seven years I have spent on this earth. We all have- we are constantly changing, forever morphing into different versions of the person we were yesterday. I am a chameleon of sorts- blending in wherever I go, accentuating different aspects of my personality depending on who I am around. I’m not proud of it, but it is who I have been. But when I write- that is when I feel the most authentic. Sometimes I think my soul is written- it encompasses all of my being, it is the calm within the storm. My writing has carried me through every rough patch I have ever stumbled over. It is my constant, my rock.
I write because I don’t know how to stop, words run through my blood, pounding in my veins as I sleep, they flitter through the air that I breath. They are my comfort in a crazy world. I write to remember, and I write to forget. I write because I don’t know how else to show the world who I really am. This right here- this is me, in my truest form. I am not a girl, I am merely a collection of words strung together.