I write because I am restless and dissatisfied.

Because I want to be happy

Because I want to be depressed

Because I want to understand myself

Because I know I never will.

I write to vent

About the things that grieve my spirit

The things that shake my soul

And steal my joy.

I write to capture the almost-imperceptible moments,

So beautiful in their rarity.

What I write, I write for myself

For the likewise disillusioned

For the similarly inspired.