I don’t need to write. It is not an addiction, not a compulsion, I could stop at any time. I write because I like to. It makes me feel good. I can go without writing for quite some time. I write because I feel strongly about things. Writing helps me express those strong feelings. I write to impress. I write for myself and I write for you.

Sometimes I write because I’m thinking. Sometimes I think because I’m writing. Sometimes I find myself doing a curious blend of both- a sort of symbiotic process, like smoking a cigarette while drinking a beer, or playing guitar and singing a song, and you can’t really separate one from the other. It’s a unique experience.

I write because I don’t like a lot of what I read. If you don’t like how something is done, then ought to do it yourself, right? So here I am.

Sometimes I don’t really like writing. Writing hurts. It’s difficult. Don’t believe me? Give it a shot. Go on, write something. Keep writing. Keep going. It’s easy, isn’t it? Bullshit.

But hey, I signed up for this. So I’ve got to grit my teeth and bear with it. Apparently the people who’re self-disciplined and work really hard at what they do are some of the happiest in the world. I’d like to believe that. Even though I’m not very self-disciplined, and I don’t work very hard. I suppose I’d like to imagine that if I were a little more disciplined, and work a little harder, then I’d be a bit happier.

Actually, that’s not true. I’m very much happy the way I am, and I am fully capable of convincing myself that I’m better off than all those sorry bastards who sit around reading up about the rules of grammar and syntax. Life is to be lived, not written about. Isn’t it? But perhaps you could do both, perhaps I could write and live the way I write and think, or smoke and drink. I’m fairly convinced. Why am I not doing it? Please don’t ask me questions like that. Or do. Or don’t. Ah, fuck it. Do whatever you like.

You know what sucks? Realising that whatever you’re thinking, however you’re feeling, whatever you’re going through- someone else has probably done the same, and written about it more beautifully than you, to boot. Why bother, then? Well, why are there waves in the ocean? I’m not entirely sure if that was a very good analogy to use.

Actually, no, I’m fairly certain that it was a bad analogy. If someone else had written this, I would gleefully describe all the flaws and mistakes and weaknesses that the writer made. And if someone else had done that in response to my writing, I would tell them to go fuck themselves (using my inside voice, of course) and then kindly suggest that if they don’t like how something is done, then they ought to do it themselves.

So here I am.