Why write?

People write for a flurry of reasons, but it is interesting to examine them. Why write at all? Do you need to tell a joke and the context never presents itself so you will tell it in a story? Do you need to feel vindicated that your life is just that special and important that you must put it down in a book for others to marvel at? Maybe even relate to; surely that would be vindication too.

A strange vagrant came wandering into the library one day with many suitcases, but above all a familiar sort of grin plastered on his red and ruddy face. He sat down, opened his tattered coat and removed a pen and grease-stained McDonald's envelope, the ones that Hash Browns come in. Inside the envelope were many scraps of paper and the old man started to write, vigorously, if one can indeed write vigorously. He wrote for hours with that same happy grin on his face and I just had to wonder what he was writing about...why he was writing at all! What in this man's life was being transferred onto the papers? Would anyone ever read it? Surrounded by books in a library that is home to all the literary greats, I am not convinced that this man could do it better! So why try?

Ultimately, I think many people write to remember. They write to remember their youth, a sexual awakening, or maybe just an experience that happened earlier that day. A snack that tasted good. An inauguration. A rude customer at work. A wedding. But really, I think that just as many of us write to forget. Once we put something on paper, we no longer need to turn it over in our minds. We can put it down...sometimes for good. We don't ever have to read it again or even think about it for that matter. It could be out of our minds forever if we so choose.

The man put his slips of paper away in the greasy envelope and tucked it in his ragged blue coat, close to his heart. He zipped up the coat and lay down his head on the desk. To see the man from afar, he looked like a pile of old laundry, neglected. He slept for many hours.