Why I Write

Why I Write

My real-time response to feeling.

Writing is my real-time response to feeling. Sometimes it’s text message rants to my best friend about my perceived meaning of life. Like when that screwed up old white guy killed fifty-eight people in my hometown on the festival grounds that my friends and have been to countless times so I had to write my way back into a headspace of hope. Sometimes my stream of consciousness falls into my notes app in the form of a half-written song that I may or may not ever read again. Like when my friends and I drove through rural Virginia with the convertible top down. No video can capture the way your limbs tingle when the car pulls to a stop at the end of a long drive. The way your hair feels like it’s floating when it’s really just matted at the top of your head. The way your mind, body, and soul all feel lighter. Other times it’s scribbles in the corner of my math textbook when I get too anxious to pay attention in class or a funny moment that’s interesting enough to tweet but somehow not specific enough to illicit the response I’m looking for from the "Salmonella is a Myth" group chat.

My favorite part about writing is that it glorifies your pain. I take these messy little blurbs of emotion that happen in public and I turn it into something whole when I’m in private. There’s something very comforting to me in knowing that my creation will inevitably be more beautiful than the way I felt inside. No matter how ugly and raw it spills onto the page, it will always be better. More validating. Vulnerably real yet easy to hide behind. After all, isn’t that what happens with romanticized artists century after century? We connect with the deep, emotional, usually kind of depressing shades they use, but we’re not as concerned about why they see in these colors, much less if we’re supposed to do something about it.

But when you write about something ugly and you make it pretty, your audience sees their ugly as pretty too. I think that’s the gratifying part. You write about that guy who ran you in circles and sure enough there’s a girl out there who is also running in circles but now she realizes how ridiculous is it that she’s even running at all. So she stops. Or you write about the moment you came back to yourself and sure enough there’s a guy out there who needed something, or someone to bring him back to himself too. It’s connection. Simple yet complicated. Pure yet severely intricate, but beautiful. Oh, so beautiful. Because what could ever be more striking than human connection through the one thing that makes you feel like you know what the hell you’re doing for once? So, I write to make sense of it for myself and I write for when they can’t make sense of it for themselves. I write because I want to and I write because I need to. Writing is my hobby. Writing is my passion. Maybe someday writing will be my job, but writing will always be the funnel in which my emotions turn into lessons, the voice inside my head forcing me to grow, and the strength I need when it’s too early in the day to go home and hide under the covers. My real-time response to feeling.

Cover Image Credit: Ava Frazier

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To The Parents Who Deserve Every Single 'Thank You' On Graduation Day

I couldn't have done it without you.


Well, the day has finally come, the day I walk across that stage and have finally earned that diploma. Through the countless hours of studying, the numerous mental breakdowns, and the late nights, I survived.

As I sit here waiting for them to call my name, I can't help but think back on how the past four years went. I can't help but think about all that you have done for me and how I cannot thank you enough.

I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you.

Thank you for the never-ending support.

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Thank you for pushing me to achieve my dreams and always supporting them no matter what. Thank you for pushing me to get through the tough times and encouraging me to challenge myself.

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I could not have gotten through those four years of school without you. I hope to be just as generous, supporting, and as loving as you are.

Thank you.

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