Writing in Order to Exist

Why do I continue to write this blog when (almost) nobody is reading it...

Why do I do it? 

Why do I bother? 

Why do I care if people are reading it or not? 

The truth is, I don't want to care. But I do. In a sense. The thoughts I have in my head and then transfer them to posts are mine, and are important to me. Do they mean anything for anybody else? I don't know...

Why do people write blogs? I have no idea. Maybe they have something to say. Maybe they are alone and don't have any friends in real life and maybe pouring one's thoughts on a virtual sort of diary helps them cope. I know it helps me. 

I just let the words be free and wander around in the internet - I almost see them, swimming in the ocean of information...and maybe they'll get caught in somebody's attention net. 

Maybe somebody will read them and resonate with them and with this burning desire to write and to be read.

Writing is a blessing. It helps me survive. But it is a curse, too. If I don't write, the words just go round and round in my head until I let them go, be free, to say what they want so badly to say...

I am trapped in this infinite loop of writing and feeling and writing some more and the words building themselves in my mind, ephemeral sand castles...

How do I get myself free? Do I want to be free? Would I survive if I were be free of the words in my mind and my soul? 

I am sure that without words I would die. Without being able to make them speak for me I wouldn't be able to make sense of my existence.

So, I write in order to exist. to be alive. To remember. To dare to dream a bit more. To breathe. To be amazed. To feel. To cry. To hate. To love. To live.

And if I am the only one reading them. So be it. They are mine, anyway.