Why writing?

When I found myself misunderstood by the people around me, I picked up a pen and paper for the first time. I was a rookie teenager who yearned for understanding, and fell in love with the only thing that understood me - writing. Since then, I have found my solace in those letters. The things I couldn't say out loud were easily scribbled down on pages. As Anne Frank said, "I can say what I mean much better on paper."

Slowly, from writing only in my diary, I started creating characters, stories, and poems inspired by my own life. I learned to give my emotions to my characters.

I run to those pages when I am happy or sad, when I hate or love.

I write for myself. It is the way I find to breathe freely in a polluted life. As long as I am able to write, I will continue to do so, because it is my way of breathing, my way of living.