Poetry.
I will write it till my hands bleed and the only skirmish sound I make is friction with pencil and paper.
I will write it nevertheless on anything and if they as in human society stops me, I will rebel with the sweet sound of poetry.

I am going to write lyrics.
I will strum the cords of my guitar in the back of my brain and foreshadow that one day when I die and my grandchildren find my endless work, they will see withered notes with dusts sleeping onto it... not bothering to wonder why I've kept it, just throwing it away.

I am going to write a story.
Of my life in one chapter because I do not remember anything up to age 6. And I would tell you what I ate for breakfast but as for a girl like me, my memories are few placed somewhere else. And with that I write to you... Adieu