I don't know

I don't know why I'm writing this. Maybe because I stayed up all night, again, and I can't stop talking when I'm sleep deprived. Or maybe because I feel strangely alone and writing sometimes helps that. Or maybe because I realized today that I don't write enough for me. I get so self-conscious and caught up in what defines good writing that I forget why I write in the first place. It's because I love writing. It's because I feel and then I put that feeling onto paper. Because things happen when I write, things that can only happen through writing. Because there is an entirely different life through words.

I'm going to stop thinking and start feeling. Feeling is what makes me alive. And I am alive to write.