I Want to Write

I want to write as if I don’t have to think about anything. To write without the hesitation of organizing thoughts and making up sentences that make sense. I want to write.

What is it about good writing that makes them so good? Who are these people that can classify these writings as “good”? Should we bow down to them? Are these people the GOD of writing? Well, I want to write.

Every now and then I read, when I want to write. Reading and writing walk together side-by-side anyway. So, one must get very jealous about one and other. Why should I worry? I want to write.

Write here, write there, and write everywhere. Every words flows together and tethered by a small fishing line. A small fishing line is not for the mocking — only if you know so much about fishing. But, I want to write.

Ernest Hemingway, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Edgar Allan Poe, Franz Kafka, Charles Bukowski, Virginia Woolf, and I, have something in common. We all said, “I want to write”.

I want to write, but my words are weary. I want to write, but my sentences are faint. I want to write, but my mind is a meander. I want to write, and I am able to write…