Why I Write?

Well well, it would appear this class is asking me a dangerous and far too open-ended question. I write when I am anxious. I have always been anxious and therefore have always written. I guess a more satisfying scab to pick is what makes me anxious and thus makes me write? Well let me tell you my little wayward leaf upon the electronic epistolary winds of the internet, there are far too many things to be listed in such a brief post. Let us cover the basics:
1) The overuse of the word "Like"- I don't mean to be a dick, but there it is. If anyone wants to be taken seriously, especially in an English class, the use of this word should be kept within the boundaries of grammatical reason (a.k.a. not every other word.) If one is trying to express a thought of intellectual value, best leave the linguistic-battering simile abuse on Skype. I can and will be counting the number of times "Like" is abused for no one but myself.
2) "Best Selling" Writers-Stephnie Meyer is a bestselling author. That is fucked up. This wretched harpy has spent decades twisting her dark-ages perception of feminine "presence" or "importance" into the books and cinemas aimed directly at young women. I understand that humanity has large problems concerning its ability to treat women fairly and shave off the bristly trappings of chauvinism in its institutionalized state, this ridiculous excuse for a fantasy series is an insidious and indoctrinating catalog of steaming prose (intentionally detrimental or not.) I guess my anxiety is not necessarily aimed specifically at Mrs. Meyer, but at the festering trough of mediocrity in which her fascist propaganda bathes and from which the young readers of this world suckle.
3) Pet Peeve- Ironically enough, I just hate those two words together.

I hope this post displays to you, dear classmate, why I enjoy writing. I write because the selective bludgeoning of the intellectual war-criminals on this planet is out of my reach. I write because it is more socially acceptable than screaming and flinging Molotov cocktails into the air. I write because if i did not, all of this crazy would go somewhere potentially less benign than a page.