Or how my sudden obsession with writing came to be
“Then what?” the writer wondered. Why do I bother even? I was a consumer my whole life and I was perfectly happy with it; what is this new craze about writing? Why do I insist on writing even though I have nothing I want to tell people about; and I am not even good at finding the right words? hell I can’t even touch-type. But for some strange reason I always wanted to write.
Maybe I understood the importance of writing in just every other task. Maybe I feel muted in a increasingly vocal society. Maybe I think if I can pick up this long sought skill, I am capable of everything I put my mind to. Maybe it’s just the exams-time-syndrome.
Whatever it is I should stop worrying about the number —word count— and just get busy writing.
The name of this text is borrowed from the name of a (series of) tracks by my good friend, Sina.
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