Writing is something that I have been doing since the single digits of age. My diary and utensil became my right hand instantly at first sight, through my hearts visual, when I noticed I didn’t have a shoulder to lean on throughout my life. I fill pieces of paper front to back and sometimes another sheet with my emotions.
I’ve noticed along the years that writing conquers over sadness, regret and loneliness. Although I would be physically alone but never mentally alone. I yearned for journal still when I took a long break from writing, thinking that I have lost my touch. How I knew writing had my soul and best interest, writing awaited for me in every breakdown, disgrace and disagreements.
Writing makes me feel so dominant so strong in my self image, I look more appealing then a hairdo could ever make me. I feel so good on every master piece that I orchestrate, writing is intently the hearts center piece. I can’t imagine abandoning writing ever again, the long life affects has me sprung.
Writing literally has my heart to full capacity, as I wish and intend, in heaven I would love paper and pens awaiting for me in my mansion, in my rose gold colored bedroom, with my name embedded on the wall above my bed. I love how the princess in me arises when a topic pops into my head for me to write about, knowing that I’m going to bring my best potential and all of me.
Writing is apart of my life, you bring out seasonings for the daily foods that I prepare. Somehow I always seem to overcook desert, laughter. Never in a million years will I go without you, you have a very sacred place in my heart that nothing can separate us. Thank you for never leaving that eight year old girl, that still needs you the most.
