The Written Me

Writing is a process of honesty. The words I write in a journal, or in the margins of a notebook during class, or those that I type out into this box, all come from the innermost truth I can understand in myself. I do not know if it is that way for all people, that writing is a sketch of who we really are, but it is undoubtedly so for me.

At times, it is educational. I learn about myself, I get my thoughts in order. Any clever joke I think of, any business idea I have, and strand of creativity that passes through my chaotic mind, I attempt to put on paper. And, looking back, I am often amused and entertained by my own ideas.

But at times, it is scary. I do not hold reservations when writing, because that would be a blatant lie to myself. Different from suppressing mental thoughts, altering my written thoughts is a phony, misleading, act. And deceiving myself would be, simply put, a moral mistake.

Because of my honesty, my writing sometimes scares me. All the thoughts hidden in the back of my mind, visible only to me, and just as easily brushed off- they become real. I can see them, read them aloud, hear them, understand them. But this understanding is the reason I write them down. Writing helps me understand myself. It helps me understand who I am, and what I think, and why I think it. Writing helps elucidate the issues I have with myself and the world, and to frame and to solve them. While at times unnerving, it is writing that leads me to a greater and more confident self-consciousness.

I do not always want to be honest with myself. Why not? Perhaps understanding yourself is the scariest and bravest thing one can do.