We make our home under piles of words, we make friends amidst the pages of books and we find comfort in between a full stop and the next capital letter. We feel in italics and reflect in capitals. With an obsession for the written word and words dangling from our fingers, yes, we’re writers.
Being prisoners of our impulses, we do not decide who we are. Initially, we are thinkers, over-thinkers to be precise. There are waterfalls of thoughts flowing through our heads. We think forwards, we think backwards and we think sideways.
Absurd questions race through our heads. Gradually, it turns into a state of mind. There’re always too many thoughts, more than our little cerebral hemispheres could store. That’s when it comes down to one thing, words.
We write because we have to. We write because if we don’t, our thoughts might dissolve us…
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