Growing up as a kid, I was the shy type, didn’t have many friends and I sought a means to put out the monsters and the conflicting voices buzzing in my head.
There was a lot happening around me and I couldn’t seem to put together the right spoken words to describe them or the listening ear to gossip to, so I found a mate in my pen.
I grew up with feelings, I was curious, I sought to know, I sought to understand, I sought to express, the only way I did was to write.
My words were louder when laid out, my voice seemed stronger on a piece of paper, and my confidence grew with every drop of the ink. I found myself every time I wrote.
I write to share my story, out of fear that it is not exclusive to me, I write to cry to the world when my tears have dried up, I write to make sense of things, I write to experience that feeling, that sensation you get with your head bowed down and a pen in your hand, the words flowing, ideas pouring and from just one letter to many pages being filled with an imagery of my thoughts laid down in minutes.
I write to create
I write when I find love
I write when I’m inspired
I write when my favourite football team wins a game
I write when an item on the bucket list is ticked
I write when I see that golden smile on my mother’s face
I write, yes, I write.
Next time I’m asked #WhyDoIWrite, I will boldly say even though I don’t write as much as I wished; I write because it is God’s little light in me and I will let it shine.
N.B: God bless Timi, God bless Yomi Kazeem and God bless Tobi Akinrelere aka Mr Quaint for the support given to my writing.