I am a writer, I want to write forever. When I think of things, I want to write down every last thought. The thought of stopping strikes fear, I want people to know I was here. For those who don’t know me, I express myself through poetry. My scattered brain impulses a train of thought as I write. It relaxes my mind and puts it at ease, it lets me release. I escape to a place where I can relate, a place where no one judges, a place with no hate. I write to say what I can’t. Sometimes I write down my secrets – like how I did when I was seven-years-old in my password journal. My voice was the only thing that could unlock it, and the only place my voice was heard. I write because it’s not censored. I write for therapy, about bad things and sad things. I write when my mind screams. Through my writing, ADHD, you have nothing on me. My troubles start to leave. I write because I feel lonely, and write when I’m alone. I write because I’d go insane if I didn’t have a pen to hold. I write because sometimes the world is stone cold. I will continue to write when I grow old. I started writing young, I could care less about eight plus ten or ten minus eight, when asked to do this I couldn’t think straight. I soon discovered something I didn’t hate, I cared about words, beautiful words and the way my pencil slid against the lined paper as my brain would escapade. My love for it will never fade. I am a writer, and I will write forever.