writing for writing's sake, for goodness sake!

often times, i write just to feel something, anything. i write to take the confused ideas in my mind, attempt to make them concrete thoughts, and spew them out in a creative manner so as to appear completely sane on the surface, when really, my mind is filled with chaos and lost words and emotions. i lose my mind when i write, and an idea that seemed genius five minutes ago becomes dated and worn because i failed to find the right words to truly push the idea on to anyone but myself. i often write poetry rather than prose because, in a poem, nothing really has to make sense, because the joy is all in the journey of interpretation. i, of course, know what every last line and word means, but that does not mean to say that i wanted them all together, resting peacefully on the page, as if to say they came together in a package from a corner of my mind. nowadays, poems come to me in an organic form. i had to show emotions, prove i was still a human being, show some sort of character in poem's past; in reality, i was still numb from events that transpired, situations i did not want to let go of, or, more often, situations i was suppressing. more often than not, i would write so that i could break myself from the mold that my life was creating, this identity that was not my own, but rather, a facade of sorts built from the illusions other people were force feeding me. i was weak, i was hopeful, and above all else, i was sick and tired of feeling lost in my own mind. i do not know why i thought losing myself in life would ease the pain, but for a time, i have to admit, i softened the blow and was able to throw most everything to the wayside, if only for a moment in time, to feel nothing, but to feel as though i had everything. there were bursts of fantasy, but the kind that leaves you feeling sick afterwards, the kind that makes you feel as though falling into the rabbit hole was a very poor choice, regardless of how many people did it before you. i think this showed how strong i was to be alone. i showed myself that i was entirely capable of being on this journey, and even though i was going along for the ride in most cases, i was not there with anyone who could have been a counterpart to myself. we were all one, in something entirely new together, and aware that if one person broke from the experience, the whirlwind had to keep moving, because life doesn't pause for anyone, even when they're grasping for the right words to expose the right truth.