Nothing worth reading was ever written out of happiness.

It was written from pain, loss, guilt, anger, or fear.

It was written by the broken.

Writing is pouring out your emotions and thoughts onto a page.

You don't write because you want to; you write because you have to.

You write to sort out the storm raging inside you, to release the thoughts swarming in your head.

To write you have to be a bit psychotic.

No sane person would need to draw lines on a thin piece of wood to figure out there own thoughts and feelings.

No sane person holds entire worlds in their head that need to be written down before they drive them mad.

Writing is a blending of heaven and hell.

It hurts to write; like a part of you is being ripped out and bleeding onto the page.

But, there is also a peacefulness that comes with it.

A feeling of sanity and clarity.

It's the one place where you can break the rules and there are no consequences.

It's where you can say whatever you want and not be judged.

It's safe, yet dangerous.

Because what is safe about leaving pieces of your soul sitting around for others to witness?