Why I Write

My brain doesn't hold still.

One idea sparks another, which leads to three more, which branch even further — until I’m sitting in the middle of a web of interconnected threads of thought.

Writing is how I put everything in order.

I don’t write because I have all the answers.
I write because I’m chasing something — clarity, structure, connection, understanding.

Sometimes I find what I'm seeking.
Sometimes I find something entirely unexpected.
Sometimes I don’t find anything at all.

But for me, the act is always worth it.

I Write to Structure Thought

Sometimes, simply thinking isn't enough.

A nascent thought occurs to me. It's a seed, but little more. Shown the proper care, it could grow into something special, but as it is, it only has potential.

In this sense, writing is how I show it that care. The language operates as a scaffold, giving structure and support to something that could easily collapse in on itself if not given direction. The words exist to give the thought form, and meaning, and as I continue to write, the picture becomes clearer, like a camera that is slowly coming into focus.

The process is what matters here. The end result is nice, and I do want the end product, but that isn't why I write. I write to discover the extent of my own thought, to shape it and give it substance.

Sometimes, I discover that there was more to my thought than I originally expected. Sometimes — less. This is fine. If this means that there are times when I abandon an idea once I see the fullness of it, then so be it — I have discarded at least as many drafts as I have published.

If speaking is just thinking out loud, then writing is like drawing architectural plans for your thoughts. Maybe that's why it's called drafting.

I Write as Cognitive Offloading

I carry a lot in my head.

Seeds of thought. Threads of ideas. Half-built frameworks. Reminders. Questions. Concepts I’m interested in, but not ready to act on yet.

Writing gives me a place to put them, the things I don't want to lose.

In a way, the interaction of short-term memory and long-term memory make me think of a computer — the relationship is similar to how RAM and a hard drive operate. Human RAM is prone to loss, especially when under heavy load (new ideas overwrite old ideas) or when frequently interrupted. I am no different, and I may even be more at risk for it. Writing things down is me "backing up" my cognitive load, saving it in a format that is more durable and accessible.

I use words as a way to externalize the clutter. It’s not just about managing ADHD — although it certainly helps — it’s about freeing up bandwidth. It’s about keeping my working memory free to ideate — reducing the overhead of holding everything in front of me at once.

To borrow from computer parlance, it's writing to disk.

I Write to Connect with Others

I think everything I write is ultimately intended to be read.

Sometimes, I write to broadcast to the world, to raise a signal about something that matters to me. Sometimes, it's a targeted message, meant for someone in particular — this could be a person I want to reach in that moment, or someone I don't know yet.

This is not to say that everything I write is meant for someone else. Sometimes, that someone is a future version of me. Even when I write for myself, I’m still writing to someone.

Writing is my medium for connection — across time, context, and identity. It’s how I explain myself, how I ask questions, how I try to be understood. And yeah, I hope some of it resonates.

I write because I want to be read.

I Write to Discover Myself

Writing isn’t just a reflection of who I am.
In many ways, writing is part of how I became that person.

Each piece is a moment of self-definition. Not in the polished brand sense — but in the messy, honest way that comes from shaping meaning out of thought.

Writing helps me see what matters. It helps me notice the patterns, to literally see them written out. It helps me to look and say, yes — this is me… or no — that's not quite right.

Other times, I write to remember who I am. There’s a kind of preservation that happens on the page. Not just memory, but identity — a snapshot of my thinking, my questions, my contradictions, in that particular moment in time.

Sometimes, I return to what I’ve written and feel affirmed. Other times, I feel surprised. But in every case, I see a thread. I see growth.

And in that thread, I see myself more clearly.

The Last Word

You see, in the beginning was the Word. And the Word was made flesh in the weave of the human universe. And only the poet can expand this universe.

For me, writing isn't just a productivity tool.
This is not a brand exercise.
It’s not content marketing.

It’s how I think. It’s how I see.

This isn't, "I think, therefore I am."
It’s more like, "I write, therefore I am."

In the beginning was the Word. In the end... In the end will be the Word.