I realised I’m not a "good" writer, not that I want to be a "bad" writer. I simply a writer, a person whose most absorb and passionate hours are spent arranging words just for u to read.
- Fared Isa -
I first write because I want to prove that I can also be a good writer. I was so arrogant when I first start writing. I think I’m the best but I’m merely a rookie. And that cost me nobody to read my pieces of writing. To mend my broken heart, I keep writing until now. I am young (barely 20 years old). I still have a lot to read and learn coz I do realize I’m stupid, and careless too. I hope now writing can be my obsession that I could not really fathom, let alone to control.
I always write in the dark, to make the bleakness around me seem bearable, to clear up my mind and thinking wisely...but in the end, I fool no one… no one but myself.
I write because I am sick of reading someone else’s pieces. I hate reading someone else writing about their daily life routine and think people interest to know the details...but regardless, they remain someone else’s.
I write to motivate people, to bring them out from their little circle of critical thinking skills that have been controlling them like forever...but in the end I realised I’m the one who should be motivated and brought out from the circle.
I write to shield from and block this often mean and nasty world we live in...but I barely manage to do so coz I’m so weak.
I write because I want to improve my proficiency in English language... but only found out that I need to work more and harder.
I write to unleash the monster within me – the monster who is always loud with its roars to create doubts and worry. It is always threatening me, judging me, and jeering me - That monster never tires of wanting to discourage.
I write because I want to be the next John Grisham or Jeffrey Archer...but I end up writing like none.
I write to hush up the sounds of the universe, the complexity of languages...but when anger simmers, I write to shut that person up.
“I never write for money because if you do, you are one pompous ass.” The truth, u asked? Yes, I did have that kind of intention, write for money… but I do realise I am not nearly good enough.
I write to avenge all those people who have wronged me...but I have soon discovered, it is myself that I have to first corrected.
I write to inspire people who read my writing. I really hope I can bring change to something even for a little...but still, I’m the one who should be inspired and changed.
I write because I want the world to listen to me, see my way and change the how so called “mind” works.
When I let my ego cloud my judgment, I write to show off. And I despise myself for that...but again, I have to forgive this sinful heart.
I write because I have the desire to seem clever. Everyone want to seem clever, doesn’t matter what they do, and that’s including me...but I end up seems imbecile.
I write because I want to impress the people who read my pieces...but again, I end up impress none.
Sometimes, I write to slap and offence those ignorant, selfish, education-less politicians...and I must admit I’ve had fun doing it and I will keep doing it.
I write because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention and share with everyone, and my initial concern is to get a hearing.
I write because I want to expand my knowledge and be a human Google and getting to know about everything...but only found out that I need to know more and more coz knowledge is something that once u try to catch it, the further it will run away from u. So u will never stop catching it.
I write to blow the wind of love to the racist so that they will love people on the name of human, not races...but it seems hard to do.
I write to cherish those I admire...but also to scorn those I hate.
I write to wipe tears of infidelity on my friend’s cheek, when nothing I say or do could bring back the one she loves.
So as long as I remained alive, I will keep writing so that people will remain remembered me when I no longer live in this world. At least I hope some of them will remember my piece of writing so that they knew I’d once lived in this world.