We Weren’t Just Stories: Why I Started Writing

I never wanted to be a writer.

I wanted to be understood but without explaining.
To speak but not loudly.
To be seen but not watched.

So I started writing not because I had something to teach, but because I had something to feel. Something I didn’t know how to say in the real world without making people uncomfortable.

Writing wasn’t a career plan. It was damage control.

Every sentence became a safer way to confess something I couldn’t name. Not directly, not clearly but in symbols, in silences, in metaphors.

I write for the kind of people who stare out of windows for no reason, who answer “I’m fine” a little too quickly, who replay conversations they didn’t even speak in.
I write for those who hide honesty inside fiction not to lie, but to protect the truth from being misunderstood.

To me, storytelling isn’t a spotlight. It’s a quiet room you enter barefoot.

A place where the unsaid finally gets to breathe.