I believe there is a characteristic in every writer that, no matter their company in life, lives as loneliness; a quality that drives one to pen and page rather than to the company of fellow men; that directs one to record silently and purposefully for seeking minds rather than to conversations of passive speech to present, but disinterested, people. I believe one writes from a desire for connection, in hope for an intimacy attained in understanding that comes from shared place in mind cultivated and found in what one records, then gives away. To me, this is the writer’s aim and their purpose in private thoughts given, after, to the world.
Of course, all we are really know is the limited horizon of our own vantage and the even smaller, broken, views of different skies that are the lives others permit us, of themselves, to see. Knowing this, I will reconstruct my beginning truth and write more precise:
“I believe there is a characteristic in every writer that, no matter their company in life, lives as loneliness. This, at least, is how it is for me.”