Why Write?

Why put my thoughts on the page for all to read?

I’ve spent years carrying sentences in my head – fragments, half-formed reflections, conversations with myself that never made it past my own silence. Writing feels like stepping out from behind that silence.

I am at the start of something. A small, uncertain journey, where thoughts are no longer meant to stay contained. They move. They press forward. They ask to be shaped into language.

I don’t write because I have answers. I write because I have questions. Because memory lingers. Because life leaves impressions that don’t dissolve on their own.

Putting words on a page feels vulnerable. It feels unfinished. It feels honest.

But maybe that’s the point.

This space is not about perfection. It’s about practice. It’s about gathering the scattered pieces and seeing what they become when they are given room to breathe.

So I begin here. Not with certainty, but with intention.