People ask me: Why do you read and write?
I have no definite answer, but let me tell you, I have my reasons.
I read to travel to places I’ve never been to, to experience feelings I’ve never felt, to meet people I never thought could exist. I read to learn.
I can travel to the other end of the world, to another planet, to another universe while I lay under my blanket on a rainy day with a hot cup of tea. I can meet people I will never meet while I sit at my desk, listening to music. I can go on adventures I may never survive while I sit in a quiet library.
I write to create stories that might never happen to me. I write to play around with words, and I write to be who I am.
I can craft characters from letters, build them with sentences, make them come alive with paragraphs, help them grow with pages, and end them with a word. I can construct a world however I like it. Perfect or corrupted, magical or robotic, peaceful or at war. There are no rules to tie me down.
There is no definite answer to your question, they change as I grow. I’m glad they change, because there can never be an exact answer, just like how there can't be an exact me—because I grow. And that’s because I read, and I write.