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I come on here like. Once a month.
Post two things.
Then leave again.

Message to Readers

Enjoy. If need be, read everything back. Try to find something you missed. I'd recommend you try to absorb every single detail the first time around. Tell me your thoughts in the comments. But do remember that words only have power if you give it to them. The following piece is meant to hit hard. It's meant to stab you in the gut and twist the knife embedded in your torso.
This piece is meant to hurt.

why do we write?

November 29, 2019



I've asked myself that question a lot as of recently.

"Why do you write?"

"What's the point?"

"Where do you think you're going to go with this?"

After all, for every story I've written— every poetry piece, every essay— everything I write, a part of my mind goes with those stories. Those characters, those words.

I guess you could say a brain cell goes with each of my stories.

That was me, trying to lighten the situation before I go on with what I'm going to tell you.

Imagine this:

You're a kid who loves to write. It may not be good writing— not on the level of Stephen King, or JK Rowling, no. But the shine in your eyes, the determination— you'll get there. And you'll be the best writer that there's ever been.

That is your dream. As a child, at least.

And then you grow up. And, as a teenager, your confidence crumbles like a cookie. It seemingly disappears, just as quickly as your dream was first imagined.

Your dream dies. Or, more or less, is in a coma.

Your dream is braindead. Or has it gotten that far yet? Have you already given up on a dream that you were so hellbent on as a child? Were you the type of child that gave up so easily? Did you give that boy your toy when he threw such a big hissy fit, all because you didn't want to share? All because you wanted to keep what was yours close to you?

Well, where did that dream that you clutched so close to your heart go? Where did you let it run off to? If you wanted that dream, then why did you let it escape you?

Tell me. Or don't.

Should I care about your answer?

Did the world hit you too hard? Did you get slapped in the face with reality, and you fell backward and landed on your ass? Hate to break it to you, but that's going to happen a lot. If you want to get anywhere in this world, you're in for a lot of pain. A lot of heartbreak, heartache, heartburn, maybe. But definitely those first two. You may not be physically assaulted— but it's definitely likely that would happen—  but mentally?

Definitely mentally.

You will be beaten, bruised, crushed under the weight of expectations. You will be slapped, punched, kicked, stabbed, mauled, shot, and there will be those who are out for your blood.

They'll want to see you cry. And they'll enjoy every bit of it.

So, will you break? Will you let them be victorious? Will you be shackled to the expectations of reality? Your family? Your brothers, sisters, mother and father, grandmother and grandfather? Aunts, uncles, cousins? Your peers, friends, significant other?

Because if you do, then you will suffer the losses. And there will be so many that you lose count.

Regardless of how you're raised— how rich, or poor, or healthy or unhealthy— there will be obvious hills and depressions(ha), or even mountains and canyons.

Life is a roller coaster, you say?

No. Life is a living being. It is not one stagnant path that never changes. Yes, there will be the ups, downs, and loops that will make you feel like vomiting. If you're sensitive you will vomit.

But life as a word? It's alive. Just like every word you've ever spoken, or will speak.

If you yell, those words are punches. If you scream, your words take that power and force and push on whatever thing you are yelling at. Whether that be a person, a living being, or that corner that you just stubbed your toe on.

You've heard the saying, right? "Words have power." There are altered quotes of said original, but here's the one that should stick with you the most:

"Words begin and end wars. They create and destroy families. They break hearts. They heal them. If you have the right words, there's nothing on Earth you can't do."

Now, imagine this:

There is a living being in front of you. It is beaten, and broken, and would like to give up. What does it look like? Is it bruised and bloodied, mutilated and twisted this way and that in a way that it shouldn't be twisted?

Or does it look empty?

Does it have a glossy look over its eyes? If it's a human, does it have bags? Does it look exhausted beyond belief? What do their hands look like? Do they have two sets? Are both of their arms perfectly intact?
What is their body type? Are they heavier? Thinner?

Do they look like a porcelain doll? Can you see their ribs? Are their cheekbones sunken in? How about their eye sockets? How broken are they?

How broken are they?

What are they wearing? What color, what fabric? Is it tattered, torn? Is it ratty, worn? Does it look like it was a loved article of clothing? How about jewelry. Necklaces? Earrings? Any piercings? Any tattoos that you can see?

Imagine this person.

Now, step into their shoes. Make their eyes yours.

You are a person. An entity. You have been through hell, and you barely made it back.

Did you want to make it back? After everything you've seen, heard, learned? About yourself, the world, those around you?

About what you were willing to sacrifice to come out on top? Who you were willing to sacrifice?

Who did you sacrifice? What did they mean to you?

And who was this person in front of you? What did they want? Didn't they realize that you didn't have the energy to deal with anyone—  with anything—  right now? All you did was wanted to rest. You could rest anywhere.

Where were you, anyway? No, it doesn't matter what your surroundings are. You just want the world to disappear around you.

You want to disappear.

Now, switch back to yourself. All those thoughts? They were just you trying to figure out what happened to this person to make them so broken. Here's the most important part of this situation:

You don't know what this person has been through. If you imagined a familiar face, start over. Go back to the beginning of this imagination section. Read everything back, and imagine someone that you don't know. It's alright if you imagined someone familiar—  maybe this person is familiar, and you still don't know what they've been through. Maybe they have trouble opening up due to past experiences, and now they're having trouble opening up to you.

If that's the case, then let's continue.

You don't know what they've been through. Still, your mission is to help this person. Remember that quote from earlier? Words can heal people, can't they?

So heal them.

Heal that person in front of you. Say the magic words, and they should be perfectly fine, right?

Then say them.



... What's wrong? Too much pressure?


That person in front of you?

They're a minefield of emotions. What happens if you say the wrong thing?

Boom. You’d practically be able to see them fall apart completely in front of you. Their stability is completely gone, and you were the one that pushed them off the edge.

… Not a very fun thought, now is it?

Do you want to be the one that sets them off? What would they do? How would they react?

Think. Imagine this scenario for yourself. I can't help you this time.

I have my person, and you have yours. They're different. Entirely different. Write this scenario down. What do you try to say? Be realistic. Don't make yourself the hero of the day that this person needs. Don't come in with the clutch and save the life of a stranger.

I'll give you a minute. However long you need. You can even stop reading. You don't even have to come back.






What are you expecting me to say?

I don't know how your situation turned out. Are you wondering how mine went?

Hm. I wonder how it went, too.

Do you want me to tell you?

Well, I’m entitled to my own secrets, but I’ll let you in on a little something:

I’m not a nice person.

What would I do, you ask?

Do you want me to write it out for you?

That was a pun.

But I have nothing to tell you. I’ll leave it to your imagination. But as you leave, ask yourself the question:

“Why do we write?”

Well, that’s everything. I’ve gone through everything that I wanted to say. So, why are you still here? What do you think you’re going to find? Did you think I had an answer to that question that I told you to ask yourself? It’s merely optional.

You don’t have to do it.

However, depending on whether or not this piece caught your eye, are you going to dig deep? Look at the whole entire iceberg? Analyze every indent, concave, convex, stalagmite, stalactite, until it’s engraved into your mind?

But that’s so much work. All that and then some over a piece on a writing community website? Are you sure you’re alright?

It’s just writing, after all. All they are? Words. Words on a website. It’s code, isn’t it? I’m just copying and pasting this from a document onto a different document. One is just going to be public.

They’re just words.

Just words, aren’t they?

Don’t think about it too much. Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard. Can’t have that happen to the bright minds of the future.

The bright minds of the future.

I’m laughing drily just thinking about it. “You are our future,” the older generation says, and yet they have such tall sticks up their asses because of how the majority of us are. So controversial, aren’t we? Just like how they were when they were younger. And the generation before them. And the list goes on, and on, and on.

We’ll be the same way, you know. When we get old and our bodies start to give out, and we ache and start to become crotchety old people, we’ll judge the next generation the same way.

Don’t want to admit it?

Neither did the last generation. Or the generation before them, or—

See where I’m going with this?

We’re taught and told to not repeat the bad, bad mistakes that our ancestors made back in the day. It’s funny, really.

Haven’t they heard that history will always repeat itself, regardless of the attempts made to change the future?

No matter what you may think, the future is stagnant. There is no time traveler who will save us from our imminent demise.

Make note of the word “imminent.” What does that mean?

Soon. About to happen.

We could all die right now. The entire world. How would it happen? An epidemic? A sudden outbreak? Nature and Earth itself taking back what was once hers from the humans that have destroyed a good majority of the ecosystem?
What if it’s already happening? I mean, it is, isn’t it? Humans are living creatures.

What’s the opposite of living? The opposite of life?

Death. And what is death?


We, as humans, regardless of our actions, will always reach our imminent demise.

It’s like history repeating itself, isn’t it? Even the best role models for human society will, inevitably, die.

Do they live on? Sometimes.

Are they eventually forgotten?

I don’t know. Are they?

If they were forgotten, then how am I supposed to remember them? Am I supposed to be some sort of messiah for the past? What kind of expectations do you have for someone like me? I’m just a kid.

Just a kid.

Oh, now that one really hits home, doesn’t it?

You’re just a kid, but some might ask you to grow up.

You’re just a kid, but here are all of the responsibilities you have and will have in the future.

You’re just a kid. Enjoy yourself! Relax. Sit back, ride the waves, and don’t think too hard about what could happen in the future.

After all, once you’re not a kid anymore, the world becomes a lot more grey. It becomes bland, and dull, and boring. Did you want to have fun? I mean, you can, but what about your studies? Your grades? You have to keep those up to get into that college that you want to go into right? Are you even thinking of college? What do you want to do when you grow up?

How about friends? A significant other? Have you had your first kiss yet? A girlfriend? Boyfriend? You need to find someone soon because you won’t have enough time in the near future. You won’t have enough time—

You won’t have enough time.

Life is draining. There will always be a time where it drains you. Sometimes, you’ll feel content when you fall asleep that night. Like you did something good.

But what about the other times?

Where you’re drained because of work? Whether that be schoolwork, a job, or other things in your life that are draining. How does that feel?

Are you stressed? Tired? Exhausted? Can you keep your eyes open without them fluttering shut from the weight of sleep?

Get yourself used to that feeling.

Get used to it, because there are a lot of unpleasant things in life that you’re going to have to become tolerable with. Whether that be a person or a group of people, a setting in your life, whatever.

Because your time is being swallowed up by these things.

Our time on this world is limited. Have you ever thought of that?

We don’t know when we’ll die. Not when, where, why, or how. Not until it happens.

I’ve heard it said that people have a certain feeling when they’re about to die. Like they know that it’s going to happen. When they get that feeling, what do they try to do? A lot of people fear death, don’t they? Do they try to escape it? Do they try to run from it?

What’s the point of that?

Death is inevitable. You can’t hide from it behind good health and vitamins and medication. Sure, you might delay the process, but you’ll feel it when death first starts to embrace your body. Aches in your body where they aren’t supposed to be. Maybe you’ll even start to forget a few things: where did I put my keys, or, what did I have planned tomorrow?

If it gets worse, then maybe even:

Who am I?

Wouldn’t that be just painful?

Remember what I said? About people being forgotten?

What does it feel like to forget yourself? Is it depressing? Exhilarating? Where do you go from forgetting yourself? Do you lose everything when trying to remember? When you try to collect all the little pieces of your past, scrambling to put the puzzle pieces together?

Oh, now what if those puzzle pieces were fragile? Brittle? What if, when you try so hard to remember certain aspects of your life, other parts disappear? They’re destroyed under a panicked touch, desperate to remember.

Who am I? Scrambling around a floor littered with letters, pictures, journal entries, maybe even newspaper scraps.

Who am I? A laptop, or a computer, open. Frantically searching through your history. Your notes. Your folders.

Who am I?

I don’t know.

Who are you, exactly?

I don’t have all the answers, you know.

Would you like to know who I am?

I’m sure you would.



See History
  • November 29, 2019 - 7:27pm (Now Viewing)

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  • weirdo

    oh whoops i completely forgot to comment the first time i read this.
    this piece hits so hard. i thought it would feel different after reading it a second time but nope. it still makes my heart do somersaults and it still makes my brain think harder than it usually does. i love the narrator. they don’t try to sugarcoat it. they’re straight to the point and i admire that. this piece is amazingly written and it deserves way more than two comments.

    10 months ago
  • parachutes_the_idiot

    Shit dude, this piece is well written and hits hard. Great job.

    over 1 year ago