I write because writing gives me a way to release the darkness that I have in my head.

My pen becomes an extension of my mind and moves with gay abandon, with a mind of its own. I do not know if the words I put on paper make sense to me, to others. All I know is that they are there so that I can get rid of, exorcise, the ghosts that dwell in the deep recesses of my mind.

At the sight of the pen, my thoughts crystallize into words; words that have a life of their own, independent of my existence.

I write so that I may be reminded, in the future, of the thoughts that once crossed my mind. That I may be reminded of the way I once felt. That I may learn the consequences of those feelings and not repeat the ones that hurt me and others. Then again, I know not if I can do that, for emotions can’t be bound by reason.