Writing and Me

I write because I like writing. I liked writing since my childhood days. But then I was more attached to the book and pen and the prospect of writing down than the content.
Even today the likenesses is more or less the same with the inclusion of content and the liberated feelings which is the byproduct when I note down a thought.
I write about things that annoy me, things I think should be changed, things I like, things that encourage me, those which breaks my heart. I like to write when I am happy and sad.
But I love writing poems than anything else. Even though it doesn’t happen so often, when it does happen the world around and within me changes so much that I touch the stars and walk over the clouds. If only I could do that every day, every second…
I am compelled to write when I learn a new word or read a book which stir up the thoughts and a give it a direction I knew never existed before. I like the feeling that accompanies when I jot down, mostly like getting high.
I like when my fingers magically starts to direct me to the next word and next sentence which I had no idea a second before.
I like the sound the laptop keys make while I am typing so fast trying to capture all the musings before its gone forever which mostly lingers only for 2 seconds.
While I realize I am not a writer in its true meaning I would like to see myself as a writer someday and to know that atleast someone thinks that I am a writer.
I feel happy like the kid who got a lollipop so unexpectedly when someone comments about my writing – be it a compliment or criticism.
I am immensely happy that I am giving this writing thing a try. I might not be a world known writer but if I die today I will be at peace knowing that I was at least following my dreams..