Let me start this off by saying I don't know why I'm posting. I don't know why I created this blog, and I don't know why I submitted it to Writer's Paris. I don't know why I am typing this right now, I don't know why I'm here.
I do know that Nelson is going to tell all of you that I'm one of those losers that need to move on with their lives, because I'm not even in any of his classes.
Why am I still here?
Maybe it's because I have no friends left around, and I'm really, really bored. Maybe it's because my best friend is entering the MTC in and hour and I need to get my mind off the fact that we won't see each other for what seems like a very long time.
Why am I still typing?
I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm simply living in the past, afraid to move forward into the world, into life, so choose to regress instead. Or maybe I'm here to prove something.
Maybe I'm here to prove to myself that I'm not a tourist, that I can write, that I'm creative, and for some reason all you douchebags' opinions of my writing validate my hope that I'm a contribution, because I want to believe that I'm good at this.
Why am I still writing?
I don't write just because I can. I don't write when I know my voice won't be noticed. I don't write without reason.
I write so that you will hear me. I write to voice my opinions. I write to vent my frustrations and my feelings, to express myself to you in ways that I otherwise couldn't. I write because it gives me purpose, because I know that somewhere out there, there's a person who cares about what I have to say, and another person who needs my voice, and another who just wants me to entertain them.
So why exactly am I here?
I'm hear to be heard.
