Unconfessed mortal sins...

I write for so many reasons. My writing is a mirror image of what I'm -- or what I've become. I write autobiographical accounts. I write to influence people. I write to change their mind-set. My life has always been a game of Snakes and Ladders. There're more snakes than ladders. I write to tell my comrades to watch out for Snakes. That's my way of being a Good Samaritan. I'm a modern-day samurai. My writing instrument is my sword.

This is my warped and deviant thinking: I believe there's no real and absolute fiction. It's reality morphed radically. And, it's almost autobiographical or semiautobiographical always -- inadvertent or deliberate. It's so -- at least in my case. In my offbeat monologic poems. In my wacky soliloquies. It's cathartic. It works just like medicinal leech. It's penance for unconfessed mortal sins. I don't know if this phenomenon is widespread universal -- or merely a personal idiosyncrasy of a schizophrenic wannabe writer like me.