The Reason Why I Write

First thing that I must admit is that I am not a writer. I am just a scribbler who scribbles everything that comes into my mind. I never expect anyone to read it too, after all it is just that I am filling up my open diary. I keep the record of just three occasions of my life: Happy, Sad, and Normal. For me, emotions are never complete until I put them into some visible words.  

With my narrow vocabulary and suspicious grammar, I always inscribe my random thoughts and uncertain experiences into at least 200 words a day. A few I contribute to flourishing print media, some goes into my open diary (blog), while others remain unpublished in my top-secret folder. The most dismal part of my selfish leisure pursuit is that, sometimes I write for the whole day only to delete everything at the end. I may not like my work, or I find it inhospitable for my chance audience who purposefully or inadvertently put their eyes on it. However, the satisfaction that I attain at the end of the day is never the different. As far as I am able to spend my time in writing, I am contented.  

I seldom refer encyclopedia, dictionary or internet to find some standard words or appealing ideas. It only impedes my creativity. For me my place of competence in language in the eye of my audience is least important. I just arrange whatever words that comes in my mind into most possible sweet ways. I value the sensation of sweetness that comes out of reading than the level of status that it illustrates.  

Further, I never sit and hunt for the topics to write, but it is topics that twist my arm to write. The only dilemma in my pastime is when I am left blind, unable to choose one from all. But, my personal phantasm often dominates my writing topics. For instance, sometimes, I immerse myself deep into some imaginative love stories. In my paradise of imagination, bashfulness and imperfectness notwithstanding, I am able to express my whole feelings in sweetest language. I am able to experience the complete sweetness of love only when I put my imaginings into words. 

Nature is my all time source of inspiration. As far as nature is alive, I will not go down. I will listen to the songs of nature, and make it echo visibly in my open diary. Still, I am not a writer, I am just a scribbler.