Why I Write
Why I Write stories
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amypat5
amypat5Grad Student Who Loves to Write
Autoplay OFF  •  3 months ago
I write to get all of the words in the back of my head down onto paper, into the pulp that once belonged tot he squirrel that my parents named Uncle Harry, the name of the boy of my first true love,

Why I Write

I write to get all of the words in the back of my head down onto paper, into the pulp that once belonged tot he squirrel that my parents named Uncle Harry,

the name of the boy of my first true love,

but I am pretty sure they didn't know about the similarity of the eyes- wide and oval like those of the Irish people I sit next to on the bus and I take out my notebook with fish on

the cover and secretly write down the motives I have for never looking like I want to be just like them,

but I don't want to be a male with a bow tie in a picture my parents put up of me on Facebook in which I had a green dress and lay on the carpet and look like

my favorite Chicago Fire player- okay, I am lying about the soccer player,

but I would like to know how to play soccer because I used to think it was attractive when I was young how a boy could beat up something and not face the consequences,

and the first time I had Irish candy I was at my aunt's condominium where she read letters from our relatives in Ireland in which they stated that they stayed in on Christmas because of

the snow and I imagined the words like old pictures,

black and white and yellow and torn inside because I will never truly know the way it is to be Irish because I think the big family secret is that I am adopted and that shouldn't be

a big deal but it is because that is a way in which people are damned, and I believe it because of how I push people away before they can really get to know me, like Will in Good Will Hunting,

and I can sense the tension between him and Minnie Driver but it all melts away when I feel the wind whipping by the car when they are driving around looking for trouble,

like how it was when I was young,

and my favorite thing to do used to be to bounce on the inflatable thing at the fair in the summer and I would spend summer nights reading in the (almost) dark while I listen to

my Dad vacuum and I knew I was alone but some other being knew I wasn't and after the thing when I was 15 I felt my voice when I read and I would lay on the bed as a 16 year old and remember

the big oatmeal chocolate chip cookies my mom used to buy me and I remember the Beanie Baby collection we had before my mom gave them all away and the letter I wrote to my English class

when I was in the hospital and I was really embarrassed about it later but when you start to sleep in the fetal position something must be done or you are doomed for life because that was

when I like to think I started to be in charge of my own destiny.

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