#15 Writers Anonymous
"And tinkembell, would you like to tell everyone about you?"
No. I do not care for such stupidity, however, it's something I'll look into.
"Well, um, my name is tinkembell, and I-"
"Hello tinkembell," they chorus as I sink into my seat,
Oh I want to die...
This is Writers Anonymous. According to them I have a problem,
they veiw my addiction to writing, the same as you would a cannibal possum.
They say I write too much, that I need to get a life.
Well thanks WA, that's very insightful information,
but I see writing as written passion, not a dedication.
"Well, I guess you could say, that I like to write, there's nothing wrong with that, is there?
Why create this group? What crime is that of a writer?" I ask, wishing I was the cat, and they a small rat.
People begin to stir, agreeing with my words; "Yeah! Writing is a craft, not a... a-a bad habit!"
"Now, now everybody, remember the mantra, my pen is broken, my paper torn, I will not write!"
they calmed again, and I scratched the shiny orange chair, making a high pitched noise. I will write, even if it means a fight.
Hang on, they can't make me stop...
A grin spreads across my face, as I watch the penny drop.
I take out my trusty notebook, and scrawl in great big letters:
THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!!
I hold it up proudly, for everyone to see,
And then I run. Run like the wind.*
*saying that, the wind doesn't have legs, so I would be, um, unmoving. Scratch that, I just ran really fast, okay?
#
Fifteen feels like such a cool number, it feels like I'm halfway through, even though I
~Tinkem
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