I write because I feel alone.
Sometimes it just be me and my thoughts.
I feel stuck.
And I feel there is no body here on Earth who understands my sorrow.
I write.
Gliding the pen across the paper feels good. This is one of my forms of self-care.
I write.
I try so hard for my family to understand what goes on in my mind. They say they understand. In reality, they don’t fully understand.
It eases the pain. The only person I believe who understands me is my dad. But he lives in Virginia and I can’t see him everyday like I did when I was a kid.
I write.
It helps ease the negative voices I created and thoughts I have.
Relieves.
Makes me breathe again.
I write.
It helps me reach those who needs to understand that I know their pain. We share something.
I write to help others and encourage to keep fighting, keep moving forward, and keep pressing on
There are moments where you want to turn back but keep going.
I write for you and I.
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