Occasionally I can’t hear even my own thoughts. Everything races through so abnormally fast, that an individual thought doesn’t last more than a split second. That’s why I write. Why not just place the things in my head on paper? Seems logical enough. I can honestly say that I despise the word, “hobby.” Every single year, without fail, the teachers, and I literally mean every teacher, asks, “what are your hobbies?” Personally writing, to me, isn’t a hobby, it’s my passion. When I can’t think straight, I pick out of my pool of randomized thoughts, what inspires me. I’ll be completely honest, my inspiration today was my over excitement/disappointment towards this guy. He’s literally taking over my thoughts. His name is up there floating around with the verb endings of french. My head would probably be a rather frightening area to encounter actually. There is legitimately so much going on. It’s kind of like this:

Picture a mariachi band attempting to out play a punk rock group, with a trio of dancers trying to learn a new number, and the cast of Dance Moms screaming 24/7. It’s rather insane from time to time, but that’s how I prefer it. When my thoughts aren’t going insane, it’s simply, well, awkward. Even now, while I just sit here, my thoughts seem at an all time high. So when asked why I write, usually my response is something like this:

Writing isn’t a hobby, it’s a way of life. Why do you breathe?  

–Angie Wood