There is something very intimate when writing to someone else - and I'm not talking about those business memo typed on the computer. A pen or a brush, a sheet of paper, and you open ever so slightly a door to your soul. The same happens when writing to yourself. Only there is no fear of someone seeing more than they should; unless of course your diary falls into the wrong hands.
Because of who I am - or rather who my ancestors were - I'm not allowed to keep records of my life, my musing, my depicting of the time passing. Every book, once all its pages filled, is burnt and forgotten. But I still write, even if knowing the words will end in ashes. I keep relating my story to some unknown reader, as if I had gained enough wisdom to give life's lessons.
Are you familiar with 'hansei (反省'? Go check Wikipedia. I tend to do that a lot in my writing. It's my way of staying humble despite the knowledge and the strength I might have acquired over the past century. Power corrupts; it's a known fact. And it can send you to an early grave. Mind you, I'm way past my expiration date but... now I have a reason to keep on living. And to keep on writing.