I was sitting here thinking about a few things, amongst them being why I write, why I write as Scribbler. What is it that brings me to share intimate secrets with strangers? What is it that causes my pen to flow out to the public? I know why it is I write about the things that I do, but I thought I’d think a little deeper about it. 

I write because… I have a lot of things to say about a lot of things. Some time back – not too long ago – I realized that I could express myself pretty well in written form, particularly about topics I’m passionate about. The topic I’m most passionate about is Love, and so you may see a difference in both style and coherence between posts relating to Love and those not relating to Love.

I write because… words spoken last as long as the memory stores it, but words on paper may last forever. People have documented life for thousands of years, whether it be through images, or of a textual language, whether it be a biography, or an event of historical significance, humans have written down through the ages stories of both fiction and fact. I find it significant to document my insignificant story of life as many before me have, and many after me will.

I write because… I need to reach out to someone, anyone intelligent enough to input my words and produce a response. I write as Scribbler and not as the person I’m known as in the real world out of fear of being judged, or fear of being misunderstood, or even fear of rejection. I suppose I simply write as Scribbler due to fear. People I come across day to day have built an impression about a part of me, an image about a part of me, nut not all of me. I fear their minds may not allow for the part they do know about me and the part known as Scribbler to fit together as one single person. This is primarily due to ignorance, and an image of how I’m supposed to be according to influencing powers prevailing in the world today. The ignorance of truth has caused me to act as two individuals; the person I am (in part), and Scribbler. I and Scribbler do fit as ONE, only a select few have been allowed – by me – to see that, only those I’ve grown close enough to and trust.

I write because… I want to be a vehicle for change. I want to change this world’s image of a Muslim. I want to change this world’s view on what Love is and is not. I want to change the world. I want to change things for myself, my mothers, my fathers, my brothers, my sisters, my daughters, and my sons. Although I can bring about change through my real-identity, I can only go so far. Change through myself and Scribbler can go a whole lot further (God willing).

I write because… I continue to grow and learn through the entire process involved with writing. Whenever I write attention is demanded by myself about myself; I learn more about who I am with every letter jotted down. Through writing, deeper contemplation about myself and the topic at hand is forced through my pen.

I write because… I want to become a better writer. The saying “practice makes perfect” holds true in this regard; I am far from being a perfect writer, I’m not even sure if I’m classified as a novice writer but I’m willing to try.

I write because… before I die, I would like to expose Scribbler to those I love. On my death bed, I would be so happy to share a final gift with my children; the memoirs of a Muslim Scribbler, their father. Although they will know a great deal about me before then (God willing), I would also like to share with them the remainder of my persona, thus completing the person they knew. I hope it would not only serve as a memory of me and as a tool to continue to learn from me even after death, but also to remind them of my love for them. I write because I want it to be written through the ages that I – Scribbler – was here, and loved.

I can continue to write about why I write, but is the justification of why I write absolutely necessary for me to write? Absolutely not, but just in case you were curious as to why I write, these were just a few of my reasons.

– Scribbler

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