I BEGAN WRITING ONCE I GRADUATED from college to make sense of what I was experiencing. Like many recent college graduates, I felt like I was swimming to keep my head above water, rather than progressing towards something meaningful.

I began to journal, something I’d never done previously. When I did, I’d reconnected with a quintessential piece of myself who loves to read, write, and marvel at the world.

This childlike wonder was perhaps something I’d lost in high school and college. My reason for writing hasn’t changed since then.

I write not seeking acceptance from the world, but to embrace my spirit that longs to find its place in the universe.

While it’s impossible to have perfect insight into what the future will bring, I know writing is something I’ll always have to provide some clarity, some purpose, and some peace of mind.

I write to understand myself in the deepest way that I can.

Often we find ourselves caught in our daily routine without taking account of how we feel and where we are on a personal level. Writing brings me to the present moment, no matter what I’m going through.

Throughout our lives, we change and we grow, becoming somebody new each day. With so much exterior noise telling us what we should be doing, how we should act, and, most importantly, what we should think, we may not honestly know ourselves after a certain amount of time.

I write to take stock of who I am and what I feel, day in and day out. I must be honest enough with myself through writing to make my own genuine decisions.

One of my favorite authors, Karl Ove Knausgaard, instilled in me the belief that no day, no human being, no experience is uninteresting. I believe we all have a story to tell. In his My Struggle series, Knausgaard describes his daily life in Sweden and Norway for thousands of pages, from his childhood until the present day.

His style and ability to make the seemingly mundane fascinating left a sincere impression on me.

I write to express my perspective of daily living, from the thoughts in my head to the relationships we share as human beings. Writing helps me appreciate that we’re here together on this spinning rock with many of the same daily trifles and worries, pleasures, and successes.

I’ve found writing to be a bridge that connects us in our universal human pursuit of living.

Simply put, writing brings me tremendous joy. When I wake up early in the morning and the moon is the only light in the sky, I grab the pad and pencil beside my bed and put my thoughts on the page.

The early morning is my favorite time of day. The world still sleeps and my mind begins to churn. Perhaps my dreams linger and inspire me, but I find peace through crafting sentences from single words and stories from thin air.

Writing has made me realize what I value in life.

It’s not the approval of others or the nonsense that attempts to infiltrate my nature. It’s being me, authentically and always.

It’s observing the world, from the infinitude of the cosmos to the life within a flower.

It’s better understanding my relationships with others — what makes this life worth living.

With the pad and the pen as my eternal companions, each moment is a gift worth honoring.

This story was originally published on Medium.com in my publication, Dare to Dream.