I ask myself that from time to time. I wish I would take the time to actually record my answers. I want to find out if my answers ever really change. I’m sure it does because I’m such a work in progress. Everyday i’m changing…is it for good or bad? I haven’t come to that conclusion yet. But I’m believing its for the best. I can see things that I do now and I can play out a situation in my head of what I would’ve done if I wasn’t the person I am today. I can say without a shawdow of a doubt that I am glad I’m the man I am today. Is that to say that I’m happy with everything about my life? Am I prepetuating that I’m pleased with all of my personality quirks? No I’m not saying that…but what I am saying is that I’ve made progress in my life, and I truly believe its been a forward progress.

But I digress let me get back to the question at hand: why do I write?

I had to take a break after I asked that question. Becasue I didn’t want to answer the question with another question but when I thought my mind was filled with other questions. I know I don’t write to stroke my own ego. Yes I do like the occasional compliment. But I prefer when people question my writing. I enjoy when people ask me what I mean. Or why I feel the way I do.

I write becasue I want to take everyone who reads it through a voyage through the conclaves of the consciousness. I write to envoke thinking in all our daily actions. I write becasue I’m tired of information being forced fed to my generation and my generation accepting it without questioning the facts or sources.

Why is it that we are so complacent with our surroundings? So complacent with what is given to us that we don’t think. Why is it that we don’t ask questions?

Why do I write? I write becasue I think.

Why do think? I think becasue I’m affraid of what will happen if we as a people just accept what is given to us.