To connect with the world in their own twisted way.
To escape from reality.
To lighten their hearts.
To dull the pain in their chest.
To let others into their lives.
To remain sane in this insane world.
To get rid of their inner demons.
To stem the bleeding of their soul.
To continue living, to survive.
To ease the constriction in their chest.
To share their emotions with loving friends and sometimes uncaring strangers.
To belong, to ward off loneliness.
To put up their scars on display for the world to see.
To invite more pain and suffering into their lives.
To count their blessings.
To share their euphoria.
To rejoice in the wonder of life.
To bond with soul-mates.
To let go of their past and embrace the pain.
To empty their soul, to share their joy.
To torture themselves.
To leave a part of their soul behind.
To breathe, to celebrate life.
To exist, to survive, to belong.
To be themselves.
People write because of all these reasons and more, for, not writing is akin to
Lucks aka Sulekha