why I write

 Why do I write? Well, I know of nothing else. It seems as though my mouth isn't very loud when I cry out for help. So, I picked up a pencil as soon as my motor skills were intact. I would write short stories about fairy tales, and foreign lands... The kind of stuff where the princess got the prince. I guess, I was trying to write out how my life would be, or what it should've been. Could've been. Now, I know, reality should never be mixed with what is supposed to be real... But I can't tell the difference since I keep my eyes sealed. I write because it's all I know, I write because it keeps me living. When the world got to be a little too much, that pencil... and that paper is all that kept my life from shriveling. I was a tiny grain among the many bits of sand... You see I was a sad, sad, little girl in her fantasy land. I had notebooks piled up, reaching the dark clouds hovering over my eyes. I was lonely, I was dazed, but all I could think of... was... WRITE.