Becoming a writer

My feelings scratch the surface trying to come out of my face, lips and eyes. Out of every crevice I have. They want to touch the piece of paper I am holding, they want to seep into it and fumble into words.I have gotten good at shoving them back in... stuffing them into a tiny box deep down in my soul that is stretching at its seams. People love writers but hate to read our work. Because things are too open, to true, to dark, or simply just to long for them. Become a writer they said, but don't write about the sad shit, don't write about feelings, write about a "she" and make it two sentences long. Always shoving, shoving feelings into boxes. Conform to the "good" writers and write a life that isn't yours. A life that is short and to the point, easily read quickly, and contains some motivational crap on how women should date from the eyes of a man. My box of wound up feelings is getting full and nothing good comes easy. If I wrote like everyone else, what kind of writer would I be? I empty my box, spill these words onto plank pages regardless of who’s reading. I feel free. The day I let what is popular conform my writing is the day my soul will die. Fame isn’t worth murdering my freedom. -M.D.L