I call myself a writer.
Not because I write in a journal every day or because I have a best-seller according to the New York Times or because I have a finished novel waiting to be reviewed and edited.
I call myself a writer because it's who I am.
I am the girl who will create a hundred fantasies in her mind and try to perfect them all before one word leaks from a pen.
I am the girl who will stay up till the wee hours of the morning to finish a novel, forsaking all other commitments, and knowing full well the consequences.
I am the girl who has multiple fictional boyfriends and sees nothing wrong with it.
I am the girl whose tears stain many pages: because a beloved comrade died, or a friend triumphed, or a family suffered a loss.
I am the girl who lives in a constant state of awe at the power that words hold over us.
I am the girl who feels most at home when her fingers are flying across a keyboard while music plays in the background a cup of tea sits within easy reach.
The life of a writer is never glorious. It is often filled with anguished cries, broken and mending souls, and exhausted smiles. We write because we find words as the most powerful outlet for life.
I call myself a writer. I'm not sure why.
But I do.