I write to vent, to express, to just be me. I write in class, at work, at home. I write about the once was, here and now but rarely about what may be. I've attempted blogs before but so much faster to pull out my journal however from there it goes back into a purse, drawer, box where it hides all those dreams, fears and realities that I so wish to share.
I want people to see through my eyes, feel my heart race, hear my laughter and sometimes cries and just feel. I want love, understanding, hope that one day things will get better. That what I do is making a difference not just for me or my children but the so many in need. So that the invisible are seen and the have a voice... That woman I stop to chat with now and again who refuses to take a cent from me but instead pushes her grocery cart towards the dumpster in hopes of dinner. The children at the shelter who help color magnets for someone else's refrigerator with hopes of someday having their own.
And what about my children... a beautiful teen who is struggling to balance college and a job and still help out mom. A four year old 'baby girl' that is my little acting queen and always bouncing and then there is my Cup-o-Joe. Joey is my 6 year old who is diagnosed PDD-NOS & ADHD. These three children are my favorite three people in the world. They are my reason to live, my reason to die, my reason to be.
This is why, what and for whom I write...
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