As he sat at his desk, staring at the blank page in front of him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration. Sometimes he felt like writing, but he couldn't find anything to write about. He wondered if he should write about his own experiences, but they didn't seem special enough. He thought about writing about the people around him, but he didn't know the true stories behind most of the stories he knew.
He wondered if writing helped to let go of all the bad and sad emotions or if it was just another limbo that made him feel that way. Was there any reality in his writing or was he just telling lies?
But writing was what he was looking for. Why should he bother to write? Was it because he couldn't say something out loud or was it because he just wanted to put some words on the page that he didn't know where they were coming from?
As he sat there, his thoughts pushing him to write, he knew that he had to answer the big questions: What should he write and why should he write? And with that, he began to put pen to paper and let the words flow.
As he began to write, the words came easily. He found that the more he wrote, the more the ideas flowed. And soon, he realized that it didn't matter if his experiences were special or if the stories he knew were true. What mattered was that he was writing and that in itself was special.
He also realized that writing wasn't just about letting go of bad and sad emotions. It was also about expressing joy and happiness. Writing allowed him to capture moments in time and to relive them over and over again. It was a way for him to make sense of the world around him and to understand his place in it.
As he continued to write, he found that it was a form of therapy for him. It helped him to make sense of his thoughts and feelings and to process them in a way that he couldn't do verbally. And he realized that the reality in writing was that it was a reflection of his own reality.
And so, he continued to write. He wrote about his own experiences, he wrote about the people around him and he wrote about the world around him. And as he wrote, he found that the answers to the big questions came easily. He wrote because it was what he loved to do and because it was a way for him to express himself and make sense of the world.
In the end, he knew that writing was his passion and his purpose, and he would continue to write for as long as he lived.