Overheard

04 // why would anyone want to write for fun?

"Why would anyone want to write for fun? I don't get it."

        "Ha, ha... yeah... I know right?... Such a waste of time..."

"Don't tell me you do?"

        "... Uh... "

"For serious? Why would you put yourself through more work outside of class?"

        "Well, I'm not the best at talking. I stutter and my words shake, each afraid of its own pronunciation. I hate small talk -- it makes me feel uncomfortable and misunderstood. My mind is, really, my best friend and worst enemy, and I'm not sure which is better, or which is worse."

"So you write?"

        "Yes. It's the independence. That I can write anything that comes to my mind without worry of being ridiculed, or looked at in some new, distorted light. A light that's already been cracked by the constantly instilled fear of describing our own thoughts to society. It's great, really. You should try it, it's ten times better than the feeling that cigarette gives you; it lasts longer too."

"Nah, I wouldn't be any good at it. Besides, I still think it's kind of dumb."

        "Well, you do throw a ball around on a field of grass. What's the point of that?"

"Exercise. Release. Praise. Teamwork."

        "I exercise. My vocabulary, and my grammar. I release demons and angels onto the pages of my stories. The constructive criticism I receive, it's the softest whisper with the sharpest tongue. It engraves itself into your mind, yet it makes you better. And teamwork... well, I guess I don't do much of that. But reading the works of other minds, they inspire me, they motivate me without even realizing that they're on my team. I think that's pretty great."

"You seem like you're pretty good at talking to me."

        "You're not the first to ask me that, I've had plenty of practice."

"Still not my thing."

        "Well sweating and yelling isn't my thing."