The desire to be a writer—or more accurately, my desire to write—began many years ago. Even before I stumbled upon a book in a bookstore when I was in my early twenties. The title was Hoe Schrijf Ik Een Boek: Het Schrijven van Non-Fictie (How to Write a Book: Non-Fiction Writing) by Roy Martina and Willem Jan van Wetering. That book became fuel for an already burning desire to write.
As you may have noticed, the book is in Dutch. And Dutch is not my mother tongue. In fact, if we’re being precise, it’s not even my second language. That’s one of the main reasons I felt such elation and satisfaction when I finished reading it. I still remember that feeling vividly.
Finishing a book—and truly understanding it—brings a profound sense of accomplishment. So I often wonder: how would it feel to write a book and see it published? Will I ever experience that moment?
Whether I do or not, nothing can stop me from writing every day. Writing feels like an unrequited love. I love it deeply, even if it doesn’t always love me back. And I ask for nothing in return. How’s that for a metaphor?
Writing Is Free Therapy
Becoming a published author may be a dream—perhaps even an impossible one. But the true reward lies in writing itself: writing for the sake of writing. Because for me, writing is deeply therapeutic.
Writing is a form of meditation. It steadies my thoughts and emotions. When I feel anxious, resentful, or melancholic, writing helps me find balance. It is medicine for the soul.
That’s why, especially when journaling, eloquence and grammar—while not unimportant—are secondary. The main goal is externalization: articulating and releasing the weight within.
Maybe it’s time to rename my journal. Instead of calling it “the journal,” perhaps I should call it the therapy notebook. Or simply the shrink.
And like any drug, writing can be addictive. There are moments when I simply have to write. Not writing feels painful, as if there’s a thirst only words can quench. It’s sometimes almost compulsive.
Writing Gives Shape to Your Thoughts
Many people believe that ideas come before writing—that clear, coherent thoughts must exist first. Sometimes that’s true, but not always.
For many of us, including myself, our thoughts only start to make sense once we begin writing. Often, I write just to understand how I think or feel about something.
In this way, writing becomes a tool to organize the chaos of our minds—to bring order to our thoughts and clarity to our inner world.
A Conversation With Ourselves
When you write—and I mean really write—you dive deep into your innermost thoughts. Sometimes they’re dark, but often they lead to illumination. Writing is a journey into your private universe, a bridge to your inner self.
I experience it as a conversation with myself. Writing slows down thinking, crystallizing thoughts that would otherwise remain fleeting. In many ways, it’s a kind of secular prayer.
If you ask me, writing is one of the best ways to spend quality time with yourself. By engaging with your conflicting ideas on paper, you learn to live with your own contradictions—to ease cognitive dissonance.
Perhaps we, or rather our future selves, are the real audience of our writing. After all, when we write—whatever the topic, reason, or style—we are ultimately writing letters to our future selves.
It Improves Our Communication Skills
Practice makes perfect. The more you write, the better you become. The opposite is also true: the less you write, the more you perfect the art of not writing.
Still, the goal is not perfection—it’s progress. You’re only competing against yourself, or rather, the version of yourself from yesterday. It’s about beating your own record.
Striving for perfection will only lead to disappointment, even heartbreak, because perfection doesn’t exist. Nobody achieves it.
It Simply Feels Good to Write
And finally, let’s not forget the simplest truth: it just feels good to write. There’s something liberating and empowering about feeling the words flow almost effortlessly from your fingertips—whether through a pen or a keyboard.
I love writing. I cannot not write. And I don’t need a reason why.

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