I do it because…

Virginia Center for the Creative Arts
Amherst, VA
May 2006

I can’t stop.

Because my outside voice is quieter than my inside voice.

Because my sisters found my journal, read it, and laughed.

Because it never makes sense and I prefer order to chaos.

I’m stubborn.

Because I can shape chaos into order if I try hard enough.

Because that never seems to work when I do it so I have to keep doing it ‘til I get it right.

I do it because the process makes me feel better.

Because metaphors are so cool and I want to be one of the cool kids.

Because if I didn’t I wouldn’t be breathing.  No really: it’s as involuntary as my breathing.

It must be done.

Because it’s better out than in.

And Mrs. Kopay thought I was good at it.

Because if I don’t tell it who will?

And how will they tell it?

Because my ancestors couldn’t.

To save myself.

To save the world.

To avoid doing other work.

Because it’s fun.

And hard at the same time.

Because I am.

I write.

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