• Posted on 2025-10-01
• Inspiration
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• Written by Lizzybeto

WHY I WRITE: STORIES AS WINDOWS TO THE SOUL

Why I Write: Stories as Windows to the Soul

The first time a sentence captured my attention, I was eleven. I sat under a mango tree with a library book that smelled like dust and rain. One line made me close the page and gaze into the distance, as if the world had changed. For the first time, I understood that words could express a feeling I couldn’t name. That moment was like a door opening, revealing that life could be larger, deeper, and more connected than I had imagined.

Reading allowed me to enter other people’s stories, but writing gave me the courage to create my own. On the page, I could turn small experiences into meaning: a quiet conversation as a lesson, a mistake with a hidden gift, an ordinary morning marking the start of change. Writing helped me piece together the scattered fragments of my life. It provided me with stability when everything else felt uncertain.

I didn’t start with grand essays or long stories. I began with small bits a line scribbled on a receipt, a letter I never sent, a clumsy description of sunlight on my father’s shoes. They weren’t perfect, but they were mine, and they brought me comfort. On tough days, when grief felt heavy or silence was unbearable, I poured my feelings onto paper until the storm inside me faded. Writing became my way of breathing again.

Yet, I don’t write just for myself. The core reason I write is connection. A sentence can serve as a bridge. I’ve seen people pause over a line I almost cut or tell me that one of my pieces comforted them during a lonely night. Those moments remind me that words can do what the best human gestures do: they reach across silence and whisper, “You’re not alone.” That truth motivates me to keep writing the chance to be part of someone else’s story, even for a moment.

I’ve also learned that writing takes more than emotion; it takes skill. It’s in the small choices the pause of a comma, the rhythm of a line, the image that conveys more than explanation ever could. A story doesn’t have to be complex to move someone; it just needs to be honest. Sometimes, a single detail, a cooling cup of tea, a doorway left ajar, holds the whole truth.

Writing also allows me to question myself. In fiction, I imagine different outcomes and explore various versions of life. In non-fiction, I confront my memories: What did I mean by staying silent? How much of my story is about survival, and how much is about truth? Writing doesn’t let me hide. It encourages me to look closer, and through that process, I grow.

More than anything, writing is an act of giving. A reader offers their time, attention, and openness. That’s a gift I never take lightly. If my words can provide even one person with comfort, clarity, or the feeling of being seen, then I’ve achieved something meaningful.

So why do I write? Because stories are windows. They let light in and out. They give me a place to carry what is heavy and help me shift my life until a hidden truth appears. Writing makes me more aware, more patient with myself, and more curious about others. Each time I sit down with a blank page, I remember that mango tree and the line that opened a door for me. As long as there are windows left to open, I will keep writing.

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