Jasper Huang, G10 黃錦程 I have always been an avid reader, devouring stories in all forms — especially online novels, which offer endless worlds to escape into. Yet despite my love for reading, I have never attempted to write a novel myself. Crafting a story is an enormous undertaking, not something that can be rushed or done half-heartedly. More than that, I have a stubborn desire for originality — whenever I create something, I want it to be fresh, distinct, and entirely my own. For now, that project remains on the shelf, waiting for the right moment. But someday, I will pick it up again. When it comes to my own writing, I don’t consider myself particularly skilled or imaginative. My mind isn’t a fountain of brilliant ideas, nor do I possess an artist’s creativity. For me, writing is a refuge — a way to untangle my thoughts and soothe my anxieties. Whenever I feel overwhelmed, I pour my emotions onto the page. There’s a catharsis in releasing words, as if each sentence lightens the weight on my chest. Beyond emotional relief, writing also serves as a mirror of my growth. Looking back at old journal entries or half-formed essays, I can trace how my perspectives have shifted, how my voice has matured. Through writing, I can revisit my past selves, remembering not just events but the emotions that accompanied them. In moments of frustration or self-doubt, rereading those snippets of joy, curiosity, or even sorrow reminds me that life is always moving forward. Another reason I write is to capture the whirlwind of thoughts that constantly swirl in my head. Some are silly daydreams, fragments of stories that will never be told. Others are surprising insights — ideas that strike me as profound in the moment, making me pause and think, “Where did that come from?” Writing them down allows me to preserve these flashes of clarity, turning abstract musings into something tangible. In the end, writing is more than just a tool — it’s my confidant, my silent companion in moments of solitude. It doesn’t judge, interrupt, or abandon me. It simply listens, faithfully holding every thought I choose to give it. And for that, I will always be grateful. | 