Why I Write, vers 1

I wrote this piece in my voice.
Not in my real voice, mind you, because there’s really no use to writing if it’s going to be in the same voice you use for talking. No, this piece is written in my voice, that is to say the voice I have distilled my voice into being when writing a piece as introspective as this one: succinct enough to sound as though I am to be taken seriously, but whimsical enough as to seem quirky yet relatable, characteristics which my real voice would have a tough time portraying.
This voice, while one of many voices I use when writing, is still my voice, and still feels as authentic as one I would speak in. Just like I vary the way I speak depending on whom I am speaking to, I vary the voice I write in depending on the subject matter and the intended recipient. Even know I’m using a different voice: “intended recipient.” I don’t talk like that in real life, but for whatever reason, here it seems like the perfect way to communicate what I intended. Perhaps I don’t ever write in only one voice at all; perhaps I mix all of the voices I’ve developed over the years into one, drawing from different messages and sounds at different times in order to communicate different things to specific audiences.
All I know is that voice, these voices, are mine.

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