To some people, writing is simply that text they sent a couple minutes ago to tell someone they'll be a bit late. To other people, writing means coding and programming a video game or a computer. To other people, writing means a new diary entry every night to record the events of their day.

And to all writers, writing is a form of communication; a way to express an idea, feeling or some inspiration to other people.

So, many years have gone by since I started writing, and I can't say that I've ever gotten bored of it. Yes, I've had my fair share of writer's block, but that hasn't stopped me from loving to push buttons on a keyboard. I've written just about everything; research papers on Jack the Ripper, short stories, novels that never made it past 20 or so pages, poems, diary entries, articles, etc. Yet, if you asked my family and friends about them, they would tell you that they hadn't a clue about my writings.

I am a very private person; I don't like sharing what I write, and I definitely don't like talking about my feelings. There are so many things I'd rather do than talk about my feelings in a serious conversation. My writing tends to reflect the emotions I was feeling at the time I was writing, and so each work is very personal because it tells people exactly what I'm thinking. I'm terrible at sharing what I'm thinking because I'm terrified of rejection or saying something stupid (which I shouldn't be at this point in my life because I say a lot of stupid stuff). I guess I could say that I'm shy when it comes to stuff like that.

When I was still living at home, back in my middle and high school days, I gave my parents a fair share of hell. Of course, arguments ensued, and being the wonderful woman she is, my mother tried to simply talk things out rather than use my preferred method of ignoring things until they went away. She would talk to me about everything she was feeling and what she thought about whatever we were arguing over. Then, she would ask how I felt.

"What are you thinking about?" She would ask, trying to maintain eye contact with me. I, of course, remained silent.

We came to the solution. Instead of talking face-to-face like regular human beings, we would write notes back and forth to each other. This made it so much easier for me to communicate how I was feeling, and it made it easier for my mom to understand because I wasn't trying to speak through sobs anymore.

This system of writing back and forth is partially what keeps me writing today. The words that I write either online, or on pen and paper, communicate with others' messages that I'm too shy to say out loud. Writing helps me express what I want while still having a face in what I'm trying to say; it's still as personal as talking face-to-face would be. I can share my ideas with the world, I can share my emotions, I can share my inspirations, all through writing.

Whether it be diary entries, angsty letters, creative writing, articles or any other form of writing, I'm still communicating with the world.

And the world will someday listen.