I don’t dedicate a lot of my writing and I don’t write for a lot of people. In fact, it’s quite rare. I write for me, from me. And that’s usually it. Lately I’ve had things on my mind, and on my heart, that has been put there by a person. And he has inspired me to write.

But he is gone now, and while I am sad at that fact and I miss… Him, I’m doing just fine.

He was my inspiration for a short amount of my time but he has not been my only inspiration. Already I have written for two of my sisters here and I have just written for another – only this time, I won’t post it. I feel like what I wrote is just for her, so I will give it just to her.

My older sisters never had an easy life, but they all have worked for what they have now. They all have earned everything they have and honestly, I think they deserve even more.

It’s not often I talk to my family, in fact I only call home roughly once a week for just a few minutes. It’s lovely and I miss everyone, but even when I call, I don’t usually speak with everyone.

Such as my sisters.

So, even if I don’t write about people I know very often, even if I don’t dedicate my work very often… I still do. And it’s me giving a piece of me to them. It’s sharing me and who I am with them. Now, isn’t it obvious why I don’t do either of those things very often? So when I do – it’s special.

I have a lot to give though, and I’m willing to share myself with them. They deserve to see how I see them – only through my words, not my eyes.


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