The Most Gut-Wrenching Question

For a certain kind of writer, there's nothing scarier than one particular question. One question Luna likes to ask me whenever she wants to see me squirm. Well, no, there's a few questions like that she likes to ask me, but. From a writer's standpoint. I'm falling off topic.
Anyway, the question. The question is this: "Why do you write?" Because, really, there's nothing more deeply personal that you can ask of a writer than that. Now, generalizing here, but most writers will respond to this by looking up, smiling - usually awkwardly - and they'll respond: "Oh you know, because." Or something to that effect. As in, they provide a very thin cover, and then hurriedly change the subject, and any further attempts to poke into this path are usually met with fortified resistance.
Now, I'm not talking about people who write. I'm talking about writers: people who have devoted their lives to writing, who have spent countless hours honing their craft and skills. Anyone can become a writer but only a few desperate and sick individuals choose this lifestyle. Writing, real writing, after all, is being phased out in our society, which values art, moving pictures, and short, angry rants with bad spelling. And videos of people hurting themselves on content-sharing websites, and cute kittens. Luna won't let me watch cute animal videos, though, she gets mad at me.
But some unfortunates all the same, like myself, are driven to writing. Writing, that in 99% of cases will never get the appreciation it deserves from more than a few individuals, will be subjected to mockery and disdain, where it will be judged more by the pretty art on the cover and the number of words and pages it has than the actual quality of writing. And yet some people still choose to become... writers.
Put all that together, and maybe, suddenly, things will become pretty clear. When people ask me what I write for, I try to be honest. I say myself, and it's mostly true: sure, I like acknowledgments and compliments, but I'm going to write no matter what I feel about my writing, no matter what other people tell me. With my past in North Neigh, I was... told a lot of nasty things about my writing. Yet I kept doing it. And special talent or not, it would have been easier for me to stop. A world easier. Yet I never did... I know that I chose to keep doing it, because...
Why do I write? Because it can let you escape from the world in a way that nothing else can. Because it can get the poison out of your system in a way that nothing else can. Because it's just what I do. And because it lets me share all the things I'd normally try to hide in a way that I can be completely naked, and yet completely invisible all the same to a thousand staring eyes.
And Luna ruined the moment. I won't write what she said, but it had to do with being naked. And eyes. I'm. Going to end this here and wrap myself up in a blanket to hide from Luna.

~Scrivener Blooms