Dear Run-on Sentences:
You know, I suppose it’s good that we’re finally meeting up again. It has been a while since I’ve seen you, after all, and I wouldn’t want to lose an old friend. Hey, I haven’t forgotten – you were with me through the thick and thin of elementary school. You were always there to offer me a proverbial shoulder to cry on when I hit writer’s block in sixth grade. You were there to encourage me when the teachers of fifth grade were cheerleading the benefits of sentences containing multiple clauses. Run-on Sentences, you were there with me, loyal and true, and always willing to step up to the plate when I needed another ten words put somewhere.
I remember that story we wrote together, in our golden days of youth. I pranced and leaped through fields of imagination, and Run-on Sentences, you slithered alongside me, ensuring my purple pencil could keep up with my fun-filled fantasies. With you by my side, I needed not stop to make a period! When we were together, the words simply flowed out of my slowly deadening pencil, with no regard for form, grammar, or even sense. Those were the days. We were free together, you and I.
Worry not, Run-on Sentences, my sweet. I have not forgotten how close we once were. I’ll always have a special place in my heart for you, truly. But, Run-on Sentences – now, please understand, I say this not with hard feelings, or with any wish to hurt you – you really mustn’t interrupt me at work like this. I know, we had a past, and yes, we had something special going. But when I’m writing about the British government and Parliament, you can’t just barge in and expect me to give up everything to be with you again. Times have changed.
I have changed. I’m older now, and I’ve met some new friends. I know, Run-on Sentences, you hate Conciseness – but I’m not hanging out with him to spite you! It’s just a personality clash between the two of you, he’s really not a bad guy; maybe if you gave him a chance, you’d be surprised by how great Conciseness is.
I have to admit, though, Conciseness isn’t the only one. He introduced me to Eloquence. Oh, Run-on Sentences, I know you’ve never met her. You’ve probably never been in the same room as Eloquence. She’s way out of your league. Hey, she’s way out of mine, too. Poets do not write about her beauty. Eloquence gives poetry its beauty!
It hurts me to say this more than it hurts you to hear it, Run-on Sentences (don’t pretend you didn’t hang out with every other seventh grader in the school just as often as you played with me), but if I got a chance to hang out with Eloquence, I’d stop seeing you for good. Eloquence isn’t a toy, you know. I could never be with her and keep in touch with you. She’d leave me in an instant if she even thought I’d dallied with you again, Run-on Sentences.
Please don’t be hurt, my old friend. I’ve still got a long way to go until I get even close to the level of Eloquence. We can still share a moment or two in the meantime. Just understand, Run-on Sentences, I can’t be seen with you at school. Really. If you showed up in an essay, why, I’d never hear the end of it. Just know that I remember you fondly, and you can still pop up, if you’re subtle about it, and if we have the delete key there to chaperone.
Fondly,
Me
