Top 3 Reasons Why Writing Might Save Your Sanity

I’ll have to be honest, before I discovered that words weren’t just things that filled up boring text books and black and white news papers, I was the type of girl who sat on the couch for hours on end, watching TV or doodling in books that I was supposed to be reading, but recently, as I embarked on my writing journey, I discovered that words aren’t so bad, in fact, words can act as friends during hard times or non leathal weapons against people who have hurt us or done a series of other crappy things. So here are my top 5 reasons why I think writing might actually save your life.


As I mentioned earlier, words ( when used responsibly), can either act as friends to aid you during hard times, or weapons against negative influences that seek to destroy your mind. During some of the most unbearable moments in my life, I found that putting my thoughts and feelings down on paper, helped eliminate feelings of helplessness and anxiety. Perhaps writing could do the same for you.


If you’ve ever found yourself in a tricky situation that you just can’t figure out, you may find that writing down your troubles can unlock solutions you never realized were right in front of you the whole time. Try it, who knows what might happen.


And finally, number one. With all the craziness happening around the world, all the hatred, and general doom and gloom attitude, I think that words are all we really have left. I mean, think about it. What do we usually turn to when we feel that no one is really listening to us? What do we do when we get pissed off, suicidal or just plain sick of the way things are? Yup! That’s right, some of us -unfortunately not most- turn to the written word for help.

Now, I wonder what would happen if every single person in the world chose writing as a main form of self expression?












via Daily Prompt: Mystery

This weeks prompt got me thinking about a poem that’s been sitting in my head for a while, so here it is.

I’ll never be able to decode you
I’ll never be able to translate
That manic look in your eyes
Or that crease on your forehead
You carry your mysteries in the
Words you manifest
Weaving worlds and spinning tales from your flesh and blood
Shaping man into beasts, and beasts into kings
Your mysteries are their gospel
Their prayers
And no matter how hard I try
I’ll never decode you

The girl with the urge to write