There are so many reasons why I write. I don't really know if I can stop. but I've always said that I can not controle the urge to write in me. When I was happy or sad I just started writing. At first, I thought it was just for fun but day by day this became a part of me. I don't know when this happened with me, I just found myself unable to stop writing.This started at first when I was eight. I remember writing my first love story. I used to think about Prince Charming and his princess and what would happen with them in the end. Once/When I found that they were not destined to be together, I became agressive. I don't know what happened with me but that's why my mother didn't want me to read any more sad love story. After that I started writing. I found it funny at first, being able to create people, and making them be whatever you wanted was a very interesting idea to me. I think that's why I started the whole thing; at first it was just for fun. but Then I met him. It was the most perfect meeting ever. I remember it like it was yesterday. He was amazing and very handsome .He was just the person who I tried to write about in my stories but i simply couldn't. Every time I tried, there was something that stopped me to. Our first meeting was in the highschool. He was my english teacher. I finally found the one who I'd been searching for a long time ago.He was very supportive and helpful. Whenever I turned around I would always find him there for me. A friend, a teacher and a father at the same time. You really can't imagine how close we were. He would help me fix my stories and I finally found them much better and more interesting than before. At that time, I couldn't believe that it was me who wrote them all. Every time I finished a story, he would bring me ice cream to celebrate. We had the most fabulous times together. He didn't have a daughter so he treated me as one. no i think even his daughter will never get love that he gaved me??.I know that because I stayed with him long enough to know every single thing he loved and cared about. Unfortunatly, as my mother used to say, good things don't last long enough to enjoy them. He passed away last year. I was very shocked ,so i couldn't talk or eat. It was the saddest thing I've ever known. My grandfather died before him so why didn't I feel the same pain for him as I felt for my teacher?