I love to write

I love to write. I just love it - watching it all flow out in perfect rhythm at times - my hands desperately trying to keep up with my brain. I love taking it slow, piecing it all together and watching a deeper meaning take shape. It’s such an effortless expression of my creativity. It’s the first thing I do when I wake up, and my favorite part of the day.

I thought this was a newfound passion, but when I look back I see that I am in a process of remembering. I’ve always loved it. As a kid, I wrote so many short stories, songs, poetry books… I narrated crazy tales for my parents every day in the car. I even submitted a piece of my writing to a Reading Rainbow contest when I was 8 years old. I remember getting an honorable mention certificate in the mail and being so proud. 

All of that, and I forgot.

One day I lost touch with it, even claimed I hated it - English Composition being my least favorite class of all time. Probably because I felt robbed of my creativity, though I had no idea at the time. For so long, I’ve channeled that energy elsewhere. I liked painting, and people told me I was good at it - so I did that. And I’ve enjoyed it, but it’s only a fragment of my expression. I’m in the process of rediscovering the other pieces. 

I’ve created plenty of art. Even so, it’s taken me a long time to call myself an “artist” or call myself “creative” - I kept those words reserved for people featured in galleries and museums.

But I don’t want to take so long to call myself a writer. I’ll claim it right here, right now - I am a writer. What makes me a writer? The fact that I enjoy it and I practice it consistently. By that standard, I am a writer and an artist and a dancer and a chef. So many things really…

I am what I love and I love who I am.

What are you?