I have a complicated relationship with writing. I love the fluidity of language; I hate the fickleness of words (unfortunately, the two go hand-in-hand). This essay is a practice in disentangling this dynamic—figuring out exactly why I romanticize the written word, why I struggle with capturing my thoughts, and how I might begin to reconcile my lack of “specialness.” Being honest with myself and writing this honesty was a challenge, but I ultimately found the process refreshing.

So, here they are: the (messy, complex, uncertain) reasons I write.

I invite you to enter my corner.