Why I Keep Writing

The simplest answer is that I don’t quite know how not to. Writing has become the way I understand things—the way I make sense of emotions that don’t always have clear shapes.

There’s something deeply personal about sitting alone with a blank page and slowly filling it with pieces of yourself, even when the story is fictional. Every book carries fragments of something real.

What keeps me going, more than anything, is the connection. The idea that someone, somewhere, might read a sentence and feel less alone. That a story can quietly reach across distance and time.

And so I keep writing. Not because I always have something to say—but because sometimes, in the act of writing, I finally discover it.