The mind is a funny thing.

It can store countless data, remember seemingly unlimited information, and it’s a virtual organic computer capable of complex equations and maneuvers. With it’s vast storage capacity however, it can only hold so much without having to purge its files.

That’s where writing comes in.

I write because my mind can’t contain all my thoughts. At least, not in the organized way that I crave. I write because I’m never sure exactly how I feel until I see it written down and organized on paper or a screen.

I write because I’m alive.

I have thoughts, opinions, rants, frustrations, passions, and various points of view. They build up in my mind, compressing themselves and intertwining with other thoughts. These thoughts constantly and continually swirl around in my mind until I can contain them by putting them on paper. Then, I’m free.

Until the next time. And then I write again.

-Z