Writinggives me the opportunity to let my thoughts to run wild. With just a sheet ofpaper and pen, I can open the door to my soul.

It is like taking amuch-needed vacation. I always fly first class away from all the stress, sadnessand difficulties of life and am able to express what I'm feeling without fearingwhat others may think. My writing gives me the strength to allow myself to beme.

Still, though there are many times when I feel lost in the jumble ofwords scattered all around my paper, I am always able to change, erase or crossout things that do not appeal to me. It may be two days, or two years, before apiece is done, but after the sweat, long hours and determination to do my best, Ismile with satisfaction at the finished work.

"Writing can be a veryunstable profession, honey. Why not look at other options?" my mother urges.So the countdown continues. College applications and shiny brochures take over mydefenseless mailbox. A pretty impressive ACT score hangs proudly on therefrigerator door, stopping everyone who sees it. Classmates excitedly ramble onabout scholarships, dorm rooms and senioritis.

"I hate to tell youthis, but creative writing is not on the list," my best friend tells me overthe phone one day.

Ah yes! For the past few months all I have beenhearing about is "The List." My friend composed a list of 100 majorsand professions entitled, "The Highest-Paying Jobs of 2002." This ishow she plans to choose her major. Interesting. It seems with just two monthsleft until graduation, I am the only person willing to follow a passion insteadof a potential income.

Nonetheless, although it may seem rather peculiarthat a person may find a sense of joy in something like writing, I'm happy thatthrough the years I've kept with it. And even with my high school educationcoming to a close, I hope to continue to answer that inevitable question peopleseem to ask, someday through the pages of a novel.

The question: Why do Iwrite?