On Writing...

I sat tonight and thought. Why do I write? This is a question that most people who pick up pen and paper ask themselves. Hours and hours I devote to this passion of mine. However, there is one truth that I alone know. If no one ever read my words, I would still write. I have written, had stories in my head for always. Things stay with me. I know this is not so for others. My Mother used to call me sensitive. And I belive she was right. Because, little things touch me. Little things move me.

A piece of music.
A picture
A face

One little thing and my brain starts to turn, to whirl, and spin. I always thought everyone did the same. But I don't think so. So many people don't like to think. They don't like the quiet. I crave it. A quiet room. Yes, I love my quiet time. Sleep can wait.