Humanity has a gnawing desire to understand and to be understood.
I believe that life consists of intangible beauties that are both inexplicable and indefinable, too complex to encompass in the languages of men. Yet, I feel a deep desire, a burdensome yet exhilarating responsibility, to express these intangibles in tangible ways. I believe that it is when we stop trying to understand ourselves and the lives we live, that we become disenchanted by our world. I believe that if one seeks and yearns to see beauty, they will find it interwoven in the very fabrics and primitive hierarchies of their everyday lives. Like many aspiring young writers, I long to explain the inexplicable and define the undefinable. I want my words to be your words, his words, her words, and their words. More than just an organization of syllables, I want them to be a set of truths working harmoniously to express. I want my words, our words, to soothe the soul sometimes while chilling the bones. I want to capture the soul’s cries, but even more so I want to discover its almost-silent whispers.
If one person can identify with just one line of my writing then I consider every minute, every hour, every day I’ve spent poured over words a success. If for one moment, for one second in the grand scheme of time, I helped someone feel the kindrance of understanding, then I’ve done what every writer has ever sought to do.