I like writing. It is a daunting task, yet a fascinating process with unpredictable outcomes. 

You write something and it sits there forever. Your thoughts are no longer in your head; they have become words, formed sentences and meanings. Someone, somewhere, reads them and they smile, cry, or get triggered.

 And years later, when you visit your old writings, unlike everything else, living or dead, you find out your words are still there, unaltered, the way you left them.