Write for the love of all great things you’ve always been fond of. Write for the trees, the most flexible gymnasts, who stretch their arms to cover you beneath the glaring sun. Write for the sun who has spent millions of years on warming us, always by the bleachers or behind the grumbling ocean. Write for the people that cry themselves to sleep, out of heartbreak, out of hunger for peace and quiet amongst the series of bombarding missile attacks. Write for that past, present or future that got away. Write for the anger it pained you. Write for the acceptance it brought you. Write for the children, adults and all of us homo sapiens who still seek for the honesty and understanding in a world of prejudice and sickness. Write for yourself. For your faults fated to happen. For your baby steps to keep going and striving to live life. For that cheesy praise, ‘live life to the fullest,’ to come true. Write to unlatch the string, rope, or chain you’ve kept around yourself because you think you’re not good enough to get out of it. Write to get out of the boundaries you’ve easily settled in. Write to see pumpkins, snow, fireplaces, sea-turtles, waterfalls, easter eggs, fireworks, with fresh eyes. Write with a passionate gleam in your eyes. Write while slurring your words into a drunken call. Write with an enthusiasm as amusing as your off-tune karaoke voice. Write with what you have. Write, just write. It doesn’t have to be prim and proper and right. It has to be with words you’d be glad your grandfather leaves coffee stains on while he rereads it right beside your children’s snoring selves.


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