Why I Write (And Why I Became A Journalist)

When I thought raindrops were melted snowflakes, I wrote because I simply wanted to.

And when I didn’t know the difference between bullies and friends, I wrote because other people wanted me to.

And When I learned of love, I wrote for one.

And when I learned of hate, I wrote for me.

Now, when I learned of the world, I write for the ones whom I’ve never met before.

There are billions of people looking at the same sky as me. There are thousands just outside this classroom doors, and hundreds within this building. There are smiles, frowns, and tears. Stories found from the wrinkle of their eyebrow to the twitch of their lips.

I am fascinated with the world and its inhabitants. I find beauty in their untold stories, and the inspiration it can bring to a million more others. When one can see the color blue, while the other sees red, but both can see the same shape shows the magnificence that differences and similarities each human being can possess.

That is why I write: to show the beauty and magnificence of each person and inspire the million others through the stories they can sympathize or empathize with. I wish to show the world that every human being is important and valuable, that no one should be overlooked because of the differences in gender, race, or sexual orientation.

I became a journalist to empower the voice of the ones that can’t be heard,
And I write for the ones whom I’ve never met before, and the ones I will hopefully meet soon.

You, why do you write? TC mark

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A journalism student preparing to see the world one tuition fee at a time. Read more articles from Jem on Thought Catalog.
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