I don’t write to please you. I will not be restricted by “proper” punctuation! I will not be fenced in by minuscule words or sentence fragments.

If I want to write about the sweet, sun on my face as I hold a smooth, hard rind of a watermelon- the color pump and juicy, a tender pink. If I want to spit the small, compact black seeds into the crisp grass, then I will.

If I want to write about the chill of snow in my hands, the way it cups to my fingers, the sinking texture. If I want to write about the wind slapping my face and blowing my hair, then I will.

If I want to write about death, chilling darkness, diseases- cancer, AIDS, the whispers of dead, then I will. And you don’t have to like it. I do it for me, and whoever needs a friend.

I’ll write about depression if I’m depressed. I’ll create a character and place them somewhere, connecting with them until I know them. Until I can communicate well enough to send them out, into the world, letting them go.

I’ll write out my feelings. I’ll write simple with childish words, if I feel like it. I’ll write with big, descriptive words if I feel like it. I’ll put you there, if I feel like it. I’ll write with long sentences, with words and letters stretching far beyond the “acceptable” limit. Why? Because run on sentences don’t restrict me.

I can be your friend in pain, in depression, in anxiety, if you want one. We can connect, our stories adjoining. Maybe I don’t know you, and maybe I never will, but I’ll know you suffer like I suffer. Like he or she or they suffer.

I’ll write about what I know and what I don’t. I’ll take myself, change a name, and put whoever I come up with in a radical situation and make them deal. I write myself into everything. I don’t sit on the sidelines and watch.

My characters are like people. There are so many of them, and so often they are let go and forgotten about, but then there are the ones who stay, tucked inside me, part of me. I write to give them a voice, or to disguise mine. Some don’t make it past a sentence, just because I don’t like them- yet.

My metaphors, similes, personification- yea they don’t always make sense. If you can’t figure them out, then think. I thought and I wrote them. I think when I write- and I want you to think. That’s my style, this is how I do this. This is how I write when I’m FREE to write, not when I’m trapped in an essay for history.

I am not restricted by poetry that rhymes, or by caPitaliZation. I will capitalize what I Want When I want tO. I sET my own BOUNDRIES when I WRITE. That means, there are none.

So hate me or love me. Take me or leave me. Rate this if you hate it, if that really pleases you. I don’t know if I want to write, but I’ll tell you this. I don’t take cruel criticism well. Constructive, sure, if it’s said in a NICE way and I AGREE with it. If you want, or think, you have a talent, you have to get knocked down. Like a toddler, who knows he can walk, has to fall a few times and have the courage to get back up. I’m still trending the water here, so sink me if you want to, but watch it- I might drown. That’s my pErSoNaLiTy.

Yes, no, maybe so? Yea, this is me. This is how I write. This is it. Not everybody likes Shakespeare, not everybody likes Dickens. Your own personal favorites- your actors, actresses, writers, sports players- yea they all have a STYLE. And they’ve all heard some harsh words- haven’t we all?

Hey, here’s a new one. If you don’t have anything NICE to say, don’t say anything at all!!
Amazing thought. How do you write, when you’re writing for fun? Like you want to or like you’re told to?

Think about it, then set yourself free. Restrictions? No thanks.