Used to

I used to write because neither the paper or the pen can judge you.

I used to write because it was my opportunity to let it all out.

I wrote because of the idea of a perfect love story was still inside my head.

And maybe one day I would write it for me.

I wrote because it was my only escape.

The only light inside this dark room that was my mind.

Because it saved a part of me, while the rest was being buried.

I would write love stories, even when mine was a disaster.

I would write happiness with tears rolling down my eyes and my heart broken into millions of tiny little pieces.

I wrote for the idea of love.

I wrote trying to save me from the voices in my head.