Well, I want to say it is something I started doing in my mother’s womb, but that would be the typical Nigerian lie. Something triggered it and something else has sustained it.
My mother had me when she was very young; 17 or 18, maybe. She must have been scared to death, who wouldn’t be?
Young, naive and alone, she must have been at loss as to how to raise the first mini her. And because she was doing it all by herself, she sometimes got it wrong; she rocked too hard and pushed me away.
I ran; man, I had to. I had to seek refuge somewhere; anywhere. I needed to go some place far away from the drama; a place that is not Dad’s arms. Don’t get me wrong. Dad was always away; it seemed he loved the job more. Turned out Dad was working his head off to keep me in the best school. Little me didn’t know that. I was mad he wasn’t there all the time.
So I took to writing. The pen was kind and the paper didn’t reject me. They were both accommodating. And when I began to do weird things, they didn’t judge.
They both enjoyed watching me bare my soul and silently they consoled me. And when the temper issues began, they were my calming pills.
In writing, I have defied conventions, experienced pure joy and told truths. Whenever my world goes dark and I no longer hear the sounds or feel life’s beat, writing becomes my haven. I write because it is my best bet at keeping my sanity in check.
There! That is how I started writing and the reasons for writing has changed over time. But it serves the same purpose in all phases.
So why do you write? Do you want to share? Please do so in the comments section below. I really want to know. 🥰
20/03/2017
CHINA TORI 
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