Why do we write? What is it that drives thousands of us to the keyboard each day to put down what we’re thinking or not thinking? Why do we feel the need to pour our hearts out to perfect strangers and tell them all our troubles? Do they even care? Are they so bored that they need someone else’s problems to dwell on? Are we so bored that we’re willing to spend our time writing about other people’s problems? Is it because we can’t sing? What would happen to the world if we stopped writing? Could it possibly go on without us? Is that ten? Can I stop now?