Why writing is so important

Write. write forever, and ever. for eternity. because these memories though in your head won't last forever. these little notes and poems will all be that remains of you at the end of the day, when you are gone. Far too gone. however, the most special days to me are the ones I never wrote. the ones that consumed my entire mind but I never wrote. because it was like my little secret, and in a way though it may die with me someday - there is something very personal and soothing about that. the best days of my life are just between me and myself, and those who experienced it and perceived it however they did. but my perception of it in my mind will forever only be known to me, and it's sad but sweet - bittersweet. like a secret between a best friend or a sister, I am my own best friend. I talk to myself all the time, everyday. hours on end, I could walk in the buggy backyard and think to myself for hours and hours, spend my entire day thinking. and I'd enjoy it though sometimes I feel afraid of my own mind. my own mind can be comforting to me, I'm the only person that can truly understand myself and all my interactions and views of people, I don't have to explain what happend to other people for them to understand when they probably wouldnt regardless so I talk to myself instead, I always have. and it's a lot easier. it can be lonely but it's also a lot smarter, you know you will always have yourself to count on - you can always rely on another person or trust them. but can you trust yourself? and it's questions like that, that I could go on thinking about for hours. because thinking is interesting. It's fun and healing. you can laugh at your own jokes in your own head that nobody will understand but you - a metaphorical and literal inside joke. how perfect. people may find you strange to do it, but everyone talks to themselves, maybe not to the degree of others but regardless we all think. some think more than others in a much more complex understanding. but that's just how life works. if we didn't think how would we do things? I know that for a while I used to be scared of my own thoughts, I would think things I didn't want to think. I would drown out my thoughts with music and try to ignore them. but they were thoughts I wouldn't always agree with, impulsive ones that almost felt as if it wasn't even you thinking them. but I think it's gotten better over time, I'm somewhat better. for a long time I would talk to myself and go in the backyard to do it, especially when I was upset or just needed to reevaluate my life. I stopped doing it in the backyard, I did it sometimes in the bathroom. anywhere I could be alone. sometimes in my room while everyone was sleeping. but as years when by I continued to do it. I just didn't do it outside as much, sometimes on the track in school during gym. and I can't remember exactly where all this time but I remember for about a year so much had happened I completely stopped when I probably needed those talks with myself the most. I did them about every month or 2 weeks or so, they helped my mental health and were good for me. after stopping doing that I started journaling everyday. it was a chore at times but it helped me get my thoughts out regardless. after I somewhat stopped journaling I started to talk to myself on Snapchat videos like my own little vlogs but I always felt at peace when alone with my thoughts - maybe not always, but more than with the presence of another person that would make me nervous or anxious. where I couldn't be my true self. I'm gonna stop this here, I feel like I've gone on and on long enough, I just keep thinking and get ideas to write. I'm about to start the bell jar by Silvia Plath. I got it at a garage sale today.