
10/07/2025
"Why I Write"
I think in pictures made of letters—
words, cherished moments frozen in time.
But growing up with dyslexia, in a world before the ease of modern tools,
meant most of my thoughts stayed trapped,
unspoken, half-formed, flickering like shadows on a wall.
That changed in the last decade.
Suddenly, what stirred inside me—
the thoughts, the feelings, the quiet insights—
could finally find their way to the page.
Still, I didn’t yet know how to honor them,
how to give full breath to what lived deep in my mind.
A friendship lit the path.
It gave me the courage to seek what I needed—
writing courses in poetry, fiction, and self-expression—
to unlearn the stiff, technical voice
that had served me well in my career
but left my soul untranslated.
I began to share my writing, quietly,
with a few I trusted.
And like any of us—no matter the age—
I found confidence blooms best
when watered by the trust of others.
Now, I write to quiet the dance in my head,
to give shape to the chaos,
to name the unnamed things.
These words aren’t meant for just one person,
but if they touch someone, anyone—
then they’ve done their work.
Because no matter where we are in life,
we carry the same storms and longings:
a fear we won’t be understood,
a dream we might be,
and a need to belong to something real.
Sometimes, I write for someone specific—
a friend, a love,
someone who stirred something worth keeping.
And when I do, I tell them.
I call. I say it out loud.
Because I don’t hide what I feel.
I try to live with the windows open,
so there’s no gray, no guessing—
only truth, spoken plainly.
-Mcihael Benner