Diary of a Lost Wanderer

I often return to the act of writing not as a profession, not even as an art form, but as an instinct. For me, writing has always been less about producing and more about surviving. Less about publishing and more about healing. When people ask me why I write, I struggle with simple answers. Do I write because I want to communicate? Because I love words? Because I want to be read? All of that is true, but not the whole truth. The truth, whispered and almost private, is this: I write because writing saves me. Again and again.