I was walking back to my desk when it hit me: writing is integral to my wellbeing. Looking back at each day’s end, I am always happier, always more fulfilled, on the days I write something. When I know deep down that I exerted earnest effort to writing something, I feel satisfied and proud. It's a worthwhile day, even if it isn’t necessarily my best day. When I write, even if I don’t publish, I have accomplished something. Writing is for the writer, not the reader.

If I don't write, I feel languished and emaciated. I feel like I’ve stolen from the world, only consuming what is provided to me without contributing. It’s a terrible feeling to not create something, to not produce something. It feels like I haven’t released what’s inside of me.

Writing is thinking. It trains your mind how to organize its thoughts coherently, logically, and persuasively.

Writing is creation. It’s an outlet for your mind and soul to discover meaning. Even the most average writing is an act of creation—our natural, highest purpose.

Because writing is one of the most important things I do each day, I should "eat the frog first thing in the morning," as writing is often a frog, and often the biggest frog of all (credit to Mr. Twain). For writing can be agony, if you don’t begin decisively. You can sit in front of your computer and bemoan your lack of ideas, your boringness, your pent-up energy. It can be excruciating to get the words out, to fall into that rhythm all writers covet. But finding flow is the training for the thinking and ordering of thoughts, coherently and logically. It is the persuasion configuring. It's not easy to think sometimes. It's not fun to organize the jumbled notions and emotions in your head. Turning them about and fitting them together and producing them on the page is the necessary starting point that forces us to grow.

And all of a sudden, that tension disappears without your noticing. It’s bliss. You're speeding along, line after line, producing free flowing thoughts straight from your soul, and they magically and magnificently appear on the page. The page becomes your world. You have no other vision, and all other senses cease to function. You hear no distraction, you don't feel the keys click beneath your fingers. You are in the writing world, for as long as the muse decides to channel your mind and body in the act of creation. After it has ravaged your being, you still somehow feel satisfied.

For writing is therapeutic. It cleans the mind and cleanses the soul. This is why journaling is such a powerful exercise recommended by so many people, writers or not. When we purge our emotions onto paper, they no longer occupy and cloud our brains. A long session may leave you tired, but all negativity is expelled, leaving only content.

So I write every day. To (hopefully) contribute to the universe and a better world, yes. But also selfishly. For me. For my sanity. For my soul.

Upon reaching my desk, I felt relief. I began to write.

Today I’ve done my writing. It is a good day.