All I wanted to do was to write. Even if it wasn’t groundbreaking and there were typos, miscommunicated ideas or unobstructed thoughts and opinions. They’re mine and I own them. I think that’s the valid point of being able to write freely, not to write for others, but to write for oneself. It’s like creating art or music. It’s a selfish thing. You do it for you and that’s all that should matter. Whether it’s writing a story, an opinion, or having a simple thought…. a moment of prose or a song. Can words be hurtful? Yes…and damaging. But they can also inspire and invoke peace and happiness.
As a writer of music, I stay true to my heart in what I mean and how I felt seeing a performance. I give back a small piece of what was given, letting the world know that there was an impact made. Whether or not it was read, it’s my memory. From time to time I might even post my disgust with something, expressing outrage, and demanding change. People read it and whether or not they agree, they still read it and took something from it no matter its insignificance. That’s still the power of writing; or merely getting up everyday and doing something you enjoy. I just decided one day to do what I love and it wasn’t one thing. It was many things. Life is too short not to achieve.