Day 25: Why I Write

Yesterday was National Writing Day for some school, association, or product trying to get its name out there. Not sure why, but it led to a bunch of my favorite bloggers writing about why they blog. What a great question.

I could truly retitle this blog “Letters to Pablo”. Ever since college, I’ve journaled during moments of anxiety or excitement. My junior year was a particularly rocky one when I would have an anxiety attack each time I took off in a plane. As a kid 1,000 miles (and no direct flights) away from home, I flew a decent amount. I learned to keep my book with me and just write. Sometimes I wrote about how nervous I was. Sometimes about anything but. During that same time, my friendship with A was going through a rocky patch so I felt like I couldn’t just talk to her. Instead, I tied the two issues together and ended up writing her letters through clenched fists somewhere over Appalachia.

Over time, I’ve found I feel better once I purge all these thoughts from my brain. Sure, they’re all up there still knocking around (with 40,000 of their closest friends), but somehow putting it out for the world to see somehow takes the high or low emotion down a notch. Interestingly enough, I think I write best when I have a really heavy topic. Philosopher Maggie much??

To this day, A and I still don’t get to talk enough, but now it’s because good things have interfered. (Well, good things were interfering then, too. I just didn’t know it yet.) This blog also serves as a way to keep up with her and all the other friends I never see.

Do you write in a journal or blog? Perhaps poetry or short stories. If so, why?

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2 thoughts on “Day 25: Why I Write

  1. Chic Runner says:

    Ah! I love this post and great ideas about flying. I get such bad anxiety too 🙂 Glad you wrote about why you write as well!

  2. Amber says:

    I hope your anxiety doesn’t worsen when you become a mom like mine did 😦

    That said, this post makes me want to go digging in my basement for the bin that contains my journals from college too. Oh those tumultuous times, or were they? I still regret ripping up my journals from high school too afraid my mother would see them. Now those would’ve been novel quality.

    Writing is so therapeutic and I wish I did more of it.

    I miss you tons and am so glad you write. It is such a special treat and I love how when I read what you’ve written, it feels like your curled up across from me in pj bottoms and a sweatshirt eating chocolate and talking to me as if you and I are the only two exist in the world during that moment.

    Cheers to things we’ve written during the witching hour!

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