Why do I write?.... Why do I write... ? That's a good question. Perhaps it is to stave off the tendrils of madness that conspire to snake their way into the depths of my mind and rob me of hope... Or perhaps it is because I'm already mad, and those tendrils of madness are agents of my own doing, seeking to drive out something that I am not, but wish to be... Perhaps who I think I am is not the one I am, but many... Different voices and thoughts striving to be heard... Incarnations of one life or many collected over millenniums, each trying to share their story... Or perhaps yet, it is because I write for the same reason a wild animal flails its limbs when it falls into water... To live... But mostly I believe it is because I get bored easy and starting fires and riots is fairly illegal. I don't know... I was gonna roll a dice to decide the answer, but it rolled off the coffee table and under the sofa... there is a stabby gnome that lives under there, so I'm not reaching under there again... I'll just leave it up others to decide. Thats a good question though.