Some days writing makes me feel like a mad scientist, mixing words with feelings for a reaction. Other days it makes me feel like a god, creating worlds and people inside of them for the sole purpose of worshipping the beauty of words.
Some days writing makes me feel like a midwife, helping birth ideas and stories into life. While other days I feel like a mourner, saying goodbye to what was and what will never be again.
Some days writing makes me feel like a physician, passing out elixirs in words to alter well being. But it also makes me feel like a patient, waiting on a cure, for that unceasing ache, that comes in the presence of beauty, sensuality, under the hands of love and lust.
Whatever it is, whatever role I play, I know it’s here, I’m meant to be; carving out a life that fulfills, that brings me both meaning and pleasure. Letting me be found, as a chemist, a femme-sage, a curer, an ailer or even a griever.
Letting me be all of these, simultaneously, unapologetically, so I can just be me.
That’s what writing does for me. This is why I write.