The first thing you should know, Jasmine, is that you are so full of love and light that the waters of your love threaten to drown you in its depths. You spend your days treading the waves constantly, just barely keeping your head above the surface. Ebbing. Flowing. Searching for a vessel to pour yourself into and lighten your load.

You should know that your power lives here. In the billowing floods of tears at the prospect of your greatest fear: abandonment.

It will take a grueling 10 years of isolation for this to change, but it is in this isolation that you’ll excite yourself in other ways, through a discovery of a world that exists beyond the local AMC theatre or the rollerink you’re never invited to.

The shelter you created for yourself out of fictional worlds, boyband lore, and a brief obsession with John Hughes films– is only temporary. The ache to be known and understood will return, as it always does. You will hate this part of yourself, but it will fester and grow nonetheless.

The feeling will persist even once we reach high school and are granted the popularity we craved for so long after the years of rejection. You will succeed in most things, and it will create a new fear in you. A fear of losing it all one day. A fear of disappointing the people you love. A fear of being known as anything besides this new, carefully crafted persona.

You should know that throughout all of this, the universe has been watching you blossom, beaming down at its beautiful flower child as you shed your petals and grew them anew season after season.

One day you’ll call out to the universe for a lesson to help you understand why the fear won’t go away.

And in answer, the universe sent us a man so beautiful and broken it knew we would never be able to resist the call to action. The urge to lick his wounds and patch his ego back together so that he could be the man we dreamed of. We poured ourselves into him and over him to be his champion in the war he’d waged against himself. We stepped out from behind our crooked shield, swimming head to toe in oversized rusted armor and brandished the all too heavy sword of our love upwards at the heavens to prove ourselves.

Because our devotion to the sick, the weak, the needy, has always overshadowed our devotion to ourselves. As if our worth couldn’t exist alone. Because we believed that deep down, the secret to a perfect world, was that everyone should simply exist in service of those who need it most. And the universe, all knowing as it is, knew that the only way I’d give up this belief in self sacrifice was if it taught me what the best and the worst of humanity can look like in the lesson that was Him.

There was a time where He would have destroyed us. Where we would have been so desperate for Him to see the pain He’d inflicted that we would have abandoned our self image in pursuit of revenge. Painted our face until we no longer hated the watery eyes staring back at us in the mirror. Starved ourselves skinny and stripped ourselves bare to expose this stranger’s body to the men we’d never risk exposing our heart to again. We’d reign terror and spit venom until the memory of Him came creeping back in. Then we’d crawl back to him on bruised knees and beg for salvation.

But, luckily, this was not the first time the Universe has tried to teach us this particular lesson. We failed the first time, to choose ourselves. Because you are me and I am you and I was so desperate to protect you from my loneliness, I looked the devil in his eyes and pleaded with him, as his hands tightened around my neck until my vision dulled, to love me. Please love me.

We were strong this time, Jasmine. We turned to the sky and asked the stars what to do about Him and they answered us, as they always do. The wind came down and dried our tears and whistled in our ear to simply let go and trust in them. And we did.

And despite it all we still love in spite of the love we never felt. We smile at strangers, and text people photos of rainbows we see outside, and tell the people we love that we love them every single time we feel it. There are still trials and tribulations and tears and sorrow. But when I talk to the universe, it talks back to me. And we will never be alone again.

Dear Teenage Me,

Greetings from the future! I would ask, “how’s it going?”, but I already know: life is kind of overwhelming for you right now. Your family recently moved to a new country and here you are, still trying to gain your bearings and fit in at your new school all while your body and mind are experiencing so many changes. There is so much that frustrates you in general and perhaps the most frustrating thing that hits closest to home is your one and only younger sister. I know, I know, you’re probably wondering, “why are we focusing on her in a letter for me?” Please bear with me and hear me out.

People have been comparing the two of you for as long as you can remember. Maybe it’s because you only have an 18-month age gap between you and how much other people think you look like. Either way, the similarities haven’t changed how differently people treat you. As the older sister, you’re the role model. You’re the responsible one. So when anything goes wrong, it always comes back to your behavior (or lack thereof) in some way. That’s been true since childhood. After all, was it proper for you to go play when your sister had homework and would be distracted by your actions? Was it proper for you to have a dirty room if it meant being a bad example for her? If she was too loud, was it proper for you to leave her to her own devices instead of telling her to take it down a notch (or ten)? The answer, of course, was always no. The expectations for you weren’t always spoken but they were clear: you had to know better and it was your job to look after your sister.

I know the expectations are even higher now. You understand that your behavior makes a statement about how your parents raised you. You revel in the praise of getting good grades, conforming to the rules, and making your community proud. You understand social cues and adjust your behavior accordingly. Meanwhile, your sister struggles in school and gets into trouble. You see how people stare and laugh at her, not with her. Your parents hear about it from her teachers, and their response is always the same: “talk to your sister”. While you want to help, you also wish you didn’t have to. You wish she could just…figure things out and not attract so much negative attention. You wish she would take responsibility and self-adjust, as you do, instead of making more trouble for herself and for you by extension.

There is a strong feeling of bitterness that often rises in your chest these days that you don’t have a word for yet. The word is “resentment”, and you feel it in spades. It’s the reason why there is so much anger in your voice whenever you talk to her. It’s the reason why there are hidden and not-so-hidden jabs in the way you speak about her. It’s also the reason why you don’t see how much she is struggling too. How she struggles to figure out whether people want to be their friend or their entertainment. How she also feels the weight of others’ expectations, except unlike you, she knows that she doesn’t meet them. While your resentment highlights her flaws, it allows you to forget her incredible sense of humor or the fact that she is one of the kindest people you know, despite the bullying she experiences. Your resentment makes you so focused on your own confusion and pain that you can’t see her own.

And when you do figure this out years later and remember the screaming matches, the tears, the mean words, the first thing you’re going to feel is shame. Shame for not being the sister she needed and not being able to take those words back. But wait, there’s hope! I write to you from a time when you and your sister are a strong unit. You laugh and cry together. You apologize better when you upset each other. You now poke gentle fun at your differences and are still fiercely protective of each other. Eventually, you’ll start to forgive yourself for what you didn’t know and what you could have done better. You’ll start learning from her how to be yourself more and contort yourself less. And when your sister encourages you to write, you will roll your eyes good-naturedly and move onto other things without realizing that she has planted one of the many seeds that need to sprout before you’re ready to take that leap.

Never would I say I was bad, but mischievousness could get in the way.
A scrambled brain teenager; put me in a skillet
I was burning out of control.
Fifteen years old and I was ready to go, not to a dance; not to school,
or a planned activity.
You see I wanted to end it all for me.
What was on my mind that day?
In that apartment I sat silently – by myself.
My thoughts overwhelming, refusing to leave me alone.
I walked into the bathroom looked into the mirror, and only
saw disappointment – a young girl’s failure
Who could I make proud, who would believe in me?
Hands shaking, lips quivering I opened the cabinet door.
I saw pills, and pills galore
This is the end; I can’t take much more.
Life at that time was mean; I no longer wanted to be seen.
Yet, I was only fifteen
What was on my mind that day?
I vaguely, remember; only that my stomach was so sore.
Please stop pushing, push me no more!
God didn’t take me
Life tried to break me, confusion had me twisted as a pretzel
and imagining my family would be better off without me.
I knew that they loved me.
Whatever the reason I wasn’t standing on solid ground
I was trapped in a mudslide I was going down.
The confidence, the strength and the power you see today
it comes from that fifteen-year-old teenager who almost gave life away.

Dear young girl,

Life has undoubtedly presented you with profound challenges that have shaped your journey in unimaginable ways. I know you’ve grappled with your very existence, questioning why you felt different in a world that often celebrates conformity. Every stare from strangers must have felt like a spotlight on your pain, yet those individuals never bothered to ask what lay beneath the surface. You are the girl who wondered, “Would someone ever love me?” The truth is, your chronic illness has placed a heavy burden on your thoughts, body, and spirit, making it difficult to envision a brighter future.

It’s easy to default to feelings of isolation when you are reminded daily of your limitations. The gear – the braces and walking devices – became a constant reminder of your struggles, distancing you from the carefree essence of childhood. Simple joys, like bike rides and splashes in the pool, were overshadowed by the fear of breaking your fragile bones. Anger brewed within you, amplified by the lack of love and support you felt. You faced more hospital visits than playground outings, and behind your smile lay a profound sadness.

You have carried an invisible weight, living each day with unvoiced pain and silently battling feelings of loss and disconnection. Your chronic illness became an unwelcome companion, intruding on your body and robbing you of the chance to experience a typical childhood. Society placed labels on you, defining you as someone who wouldn’t succeed, someone who needed to hide her scars rather than showcasing them as a badge of resilience.

But I urge you to look at the woman you are today! You emerged victorious from those dark moments, and your strength has transformed you into a remarkable individual. You triumphed over what many labeled as insurmountable obstacles. You graduated, and in doing so, you shed the identity of a broken child. No longer do you confine yourself to the shadows; you found your freedom, reclaiming your identity as a whole person.

Now, you are a flourishing woman who has embraced love, motherhood, and your voice. The paths once untraveled have opened up to you, granting you the possibility to dream and believe in the beauty of life. Your scars no longer serve as symbols of defeat; they weave together a narrative that inspires others who face similar adversities. You crafted a story that reveals hope—a beacon for the next young girl who might think that her struggles define her existence.

You are proof that a chronic illness may alter the journey, but it does not dictate the destination. Your journey has become a testimony that speaks volumes in the face of doubt and discouragement. Through resilience and determination, you have showcased that the human spirit can soar, unfettered by limitations.

As you continue to move forward, let your journey resonate with those who feel lost in their battles. You have become an unforgettable voice echoing resilience, showing other young girls that there is light at the end of the tunnel. For you are not merely surviving; you are triumphantly living.

So, hold your head high and continue to pave the way for others. Your story is a reminder: the fight against adversity is a powerful declaration of existence and triumph. Be proud of the woman you’ve become; you are a force to be reckoned with!

Anxious girl, there is calmness in your chaos.
As I breathe deeply today, I now know that depression cannot slay us.

Though it may feel like an eternity, that clench in your chest is only temporary- it does not change the fact that you are a visionary.

And, no matter how difficult the moment may seem, learning to simply be is learning to set yourself free.

I know that others may have told you that what you feel is not that deep, but the depth of your soul is the ground beneath your feet.

You were never crazy for feeling emotions-
In truth, you were amazing for being so open.

May you feel empowered to be bold and unique. And, may you release the fear of the old to find your peace.

Somewhere on the path, I realized that it all starts in our mind, and taking it one day at a time I felt it unwind until it began to align.

Peace was always within us from the beginning and it is everlasting- an endless well of serenity to keep us steady while the world is passing.

When we breathe deep and release fear we become unshakeable. And, trusting in ourselves builds a bond that is unbreakable.

The past is over and the future is still unknown but in the present, you are right where you belong. May you rest deeply in trust that you are on your journey home.

Being excited about this challenge, I was going to go all out and try to find an inspirational quote and write a generic hook about how I experienced adversity which, in turn, developed me into the person I am now. But hey, how this unfolds has already been predetermined in my eyes. All that to the side, before I share, I want to draw attention to how important it is to not only love who you are regardless but also know you are enough. Period. Point blank. This is a lesson that I had to unfortunately repeat time and time again until it hit me like a truck, and the memo finally planted the concept in my mind. The importance of having self-worth was something I struggled with, because in today’s world, a component of engaging with people has become ‘what can you—as a man or woman—do for them, and can you continue to keep doing it without displaying signs of vulnerability?’ Now, that can be a whole other topic for another day, so let me stay on point.

Hey, I don’t know who you are, and you don’t really know me—not fully. But I want to say while I have your attention, even if it’s just for this moment—thank you. Thank you for listening. This letter is for you, and it’s also for me. It’s a reminder of how far I’ve come and a chance to recognize every step it took to get here, even the ones that hurt. Taking time to look back in retrospect, my subconscious or true self, without getting too deep, always tried to seep out during certain moments of my childhood where it took people by surprise or I was given a label.

As a child, this gave me the feeling that I had to hide this part of myself to be accepted by not only peers but family. It was like I had to trade a chunk of who I was at that time just to feel worthy. Worthy of what? To be honest, I don’t even recall how I felt at that current state, but I know how worthless I felt at that time. Back then, especially in the early 2010’s, that component was actually what made me whole. That’s where the silent war began, because how can you love yourself? How could I feel worthy when I’m consistently shrinking to conform to other people’s perceptions of who I am? So I created a fortress constructed from accolades, fables, titles, nonsensical claims, and a distorted representation of what I was trying to proclaim. But whenever it was time for battle or even a war, I had to stand my ground, prove myself, show I knew how to walk and talk. And I cracked instantly. Though another attribute I possess is the capacity to think and act quickly. This allowed me to win countless wars against those who tried to test my fortress, and I wouldn’t let them destroy what I created. Despite that, I wasn’t ready for the test I put myself through.

There was a day that fortress crumbled. The mending scars of war had come to their last leg, and eventually, that fortress was broken. My ego couldn’t bear witness to what happened. It was like I was stripped naked for all to see, but most importantly, for myself to finally see. To see that beneath all those layers, I was someone I couldn’t truly stand to be. I saw all the pretenses, and it was like looking at a stranger. All that effort, all that armor—and still, I wasn’t enough. The fortress wasn’t worth it, nor were the battles I fought or the sacrifices I made to keep it intact. Now, I don’t have many words left before it exceeds 800, so I’ll give you the short version. It took that moment for me to realize that I had no sense of self-worth, and it took a season, metaphorically speaking, for me to build self-esteem after almost two decades of living. Being transparent, I’m still strengthening the foundation of my new fortress. However, I know that the foundation, as it was supposed to be, is constructed from knowing that I’m enough simply by existing. I’m me, and that’s all it takes

Dear LG,

Some things were easy for you, while many other children have struggled. You learned how to read when you were two years old, and you do not remember a time when you did not know how to read. 

You do not remember struggling. On the first day of school, you were the only kid in your kindergarten class who could already read.

That is impressive and I am so proud of you! What is even more amazing is learning a skill you struggled with and have since overcome.

Jump roping.

Kids usually learn it when they are in kindergarten. You tried and failed at that time. The other kids and adults called you clumsy.

You felt discouraged. 

You stopped trying to jump rope that year. And the next year.

Then, one adult believed in you: your second-grade teacher.

She threw you in with the kindergartners as they learned how to jump rope and encouraged you as you tried to learn.

You towered over the other kids in your second-grade class, let alone the kindergartners. You felt awkward.

The kindergarteners and their teacher cheered you on as you jumped and tripped over the rope hundreds of times.

Eventually, it all clicked. You learned how to coordinate your jumping in perfect timing with the swinging of the rope.

You were so proud of yourself, you just kept jumping and laughing happily.

Not only did you learn jump roping, you became an expert in the third and fourth grades. You joined the jump rope club with the girls and you jumped double dutch with ease. You also loved swinging the two ropes while the girls jumped in.

You were in your happy place.

Sometimes you will forget what you have overcome in your life and then remember that seemingly simple story of learning to to jump rope.

It was something the other kids took for granted, and you struggled to overcome.

And you did it!

You don’t know this, but this little life lesson – failing hundreds or even thousands of times before succeeding – will take you far in your life.

You will write the first 50,000 words of novels and then scrap them because they were ideas that failed.

You will write other prose that meanders.

You will craft rhyming poetry that does not quite flow.

You will not stop trying to write something that suits your style.

You will find your big break, one way or another. When you do, it will be a spectacular victory.

I believe in you, LG. My younger self who will never, ever quit doing what they love. You will always live inside me.

When asked the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up,” no one responds a low level employee at a mega department store. However, that’s where my life’s journey took me. Initially I planned to be there for three months which became three years.
During my time working there I faced many life altering challenges such as domestic violence, a house fire, failing school, homelessness, financial instability,etc. It seemed to ME that the only thing I was good at was my job. Work and became my safe haven from the chaos of life so I invested all my creative energy into making my department the best. I began to build my whole life around the demands of the job and the more I gave the more they took. It didn’t matter to me because it made me feel good to be great at something.
Although I did acquire new skills, I settled and became complacent. I accepted this was my life, but subconsciously I knew I deserved better.
Working in the bakery gave me the most joy. Eventually I became a cake decorator and it gave me pleasure to create beautiful things for others to enjoy. Management offered me a temporary position as bakery manager, which I declined. However when I was told the offer was permanent I accepted. At the time I made a lot of internal and external changes in my life and I felt it was only up from here.
I worked hard for what I felt I earned. One day they called me in the office to tell me although I was doing phenomenally, they were giving the job to the old manager. Initially I protested and asked questions to no avail. When I reevaluated the paperwork I signed my heart sank. Although I was listed as a permanent manager in my profile the contract said overlay which meant they could give it to the old manager at any time. I felt betrayed and hurt. My choices were made simple relocate as a low level employee or quit. With that came a pay cut that was lower than my initial pay rate before I was promoted.
After I cried, I calmed down and meditated. I realized there was another radical option. I could start my own cake business. I possessed the skill and tenacity, so what could stop me but fear? Would I continue to stand in my own way?
With considerable research I realized it was very possible with little cost. I had to release limiting mindsets and confidence was the key to being as successful as I wanted to be. If I could invest creative ideas to build up a multi billion dollar company why not in myself? I still had some doubts, but within a week I made my first sell.
I am currently in the process of opening my business, working part time and restarting school with a new goal in mind. I have more time for myself and my children.
Remember your dreams and know you deserve better. Be who you want to be. No matter how much time it takes or who thinks you’re unworthy. You determine your value. Speak positively and give yourself grace. Every breathe is an opportunity to make those changes. You have the final say, so never give up and I’ll see you on the other side!

Dear Friends Simply Hanging On,

I had trouble thinking about a dream or goal I had that came true that I would feel good writing to you about.

I graduated from university with highest honors but I went through a hell to achieve that goal that I would rather have no one else repeat.

I had a beautiful wedding that I was proud of because I planned it almost entirely on my own while working 50 hours per week at my job, but now I am divorced after eight years of marriage. The wedding clearly was not a long-term success.

I landed my dream job, writing law that would affect mental health care, but working there mentally and emotionally broke me to the point where I am disabled and unable to work ever again.

The dream I had that came true, that I am actually proud of, is living to age 40. I did not expect to live nearly this long.

My suicidal ideation and attempts began when I was 14 years old. Given how often I was injuring myself intentionally, it is a wonder that I lived to walk the stage at my high school graduation when I was 17.

My adult life often treated me harshly. I was in two long, challenging relationships. It took me seven years to graduate from university. Twenty years of intermittent employment were a huge challenge before I finally accepted that my mental health conditions severely limited my ability to work. I have been a patient at the psych hospital 18 times from the ages of 15 through 40.

When I feel any danger to my own life, I make it to the psych hospital quickly. The psych hospital is the soft place to land so I can give up the fight with the part of myself who wants the pain to end so badly that they would rather not exist.

My resilience and incredible will to live vastly outweigh my many urges to end my life every single time. I get up off the ground more times than I fall.

For many years, I have tried to fight the urges on my own. Sure, I went to therapy and took medications, but I was not completely honest with my care team. I put on a happy face because that was what I thought I was supposed to do. I even laughed and cracked many jokes throughout my life to maintain the facade.

I had a lightbulb moment eventually during one of my multiple psych hospital stays at age 36. I realized I had to be honest about how I felt and advocate for myself to get what I needed. I also had to get honest with myself and stop seeing the negative in everything.

I have had many challenging life events from ages 36 through 40. Divorce. Relocation. Death of a parent. Career loss. Bankruptcy. The list goes on.

I choose not to see these as negative. I feel incredibly blessed to have experienced all of this. I feel grateful that I could live long enough to tell these tales. I could not have endured any of these challenges had I ended my life while I was in high school.

Life is quickly looking up for me. There are still challenges, but I know I can handle anything the universe throws my way. Making it to age 40 has been fantastic. In fact, I spent my 40th birthday in the psych hospital, surrounded by an understanding care team and a handful of kind patients. It is not how I envisioned celebrating 40, but it is certainly a creative way for my birthday to be recognized.

I have plenty to live for, although I have little money and I cannot work. I set many goals, such as learning new skills and hobbies, meeting people with common interests, and getting back to my first love: writing.

If you have lost the will to live, please remember that things do get better. No emotion lasts forever. Try to imagine yourself five, ten, twenty years from now. Where do you want to be?

It is a dream come true that I have made it to 40 years of age. My next dream is to reach 50 years. I hope you become grateful for your life, too, if you have not already. I am telling you with absolute confidence that it is possible for you because you, too, have an unshakeable will to live. It is in your DNA.

However, if these feelings of despair persist, please call the crisis line in your country. You do not have to endure this alone.

The life you’ve fought so hard for is more than just a dream.

We both know you’re the most solid on my team.

Greatness is your birthright; you’re a true visionary.

I admire your power; it is nothing short of extraordinary.

Once I got to know you, I knew we’d be unstoppable.

Nothing in this world can stop us from doing the impossible.

When I faced my deepest, darkest fears, you never chose sides.

With you, I’m an open book absolved of pride.

I’m far from perfect, but I try my best to do what’s right.

I no longer want to be a shadow of my former self; I was born to shine bright.

I recently received my college acceptance letter after a 6-year gap.

I took your advice, trusted my intuition, and built a better mousetrap.

I was shocked by the news; I know you’re one proud little girl.

I promised I’d make it up to you; it’s your dreamworld.

Continue working towards your goals; the results will come to fruition.

Always believe in yourself, and God will place you in position.

Not everyone is lucky to experience someone like you.

You’re truly one of a kind in all that you do.

I’ve learned that good things come to those who wait, but everything comes at a cost.

Are you willing to sacrifice what’s making you comfortable to gain more than you lost?

My parents told me ever since I was a little boy that I could be anything I wanted to be when I grew up. They would say things like, ‘Gregory, you’re so smart. You can accomplish anything if you set your mind to it.’ ‘Greg, you’re good at everything you try. If you’d just apply yourself, you can have a great career.’ But those are just things parents are supposed to tell their kids, right? Isn’t that part of being a parent? Making a child believe they can do anything they set their hearts to? Encouraging your kids to aim for the stars?

At 10, you ask ‘Can I be a cheerleader like my big sister?’ You’re met with laughter which fades quickly because they realize you’re serious. No, the answer is no. That’s what girls do and you’re a boy. You can do anything that boys do.

At 12, your grades drop in school, and you’ve lost interest. You’re told ‘you’re smarter than this.’ You ask, ‘Can I do gymnastics like my little sister, or be a ballerina?’ Gregory, they would say, that’s for girls. Not boys. You’re not a girl. And you replied, why can’t I be? And the answer is simply because you cannot.

You’re sent to your room, told never to speak of this again. And you didn’t, until you were 14. You told them you didn’t know what you wanted to do with your life. You’re reminded that you can do anything you want. And they heard you mumble that’s a lie. You’re sent to a Dr. to fix you. To make sure you never have those thoughts again. For years it worked.

You’re 42, it’s another sleepless night scrolling the internet. For some reason you do a specific search that night. You send an email and think, I’ll put all these thoughts to rest finally. The next day you get a reply. She wants you to tell her about yourself. You pour your heart out. You tell her all your thoughts and feelings of wanting to be a cheerleader, a mother and how puberty was torture.

Two days later she calls you and says she has an opening! But fear sets in. Is she going to be like the one that tried to fix you when you were 14? You decide it’s worth the risk. And for the first time in 30 years, you have a therapist. She is kind, compassionate and understanding. She says you can be anything you want, it’s never too late. You recoil because your parents used to tell you that. You tell the therapist that’s a lie parents say. And she counters with, why? Why is it a lie?

Because you’ll lose everything. Your kids, job, family, and partner. You have responsibilities. She says, you have responsibilities to yourself as well and that while she can’t make promises on if you’ll lose anything or anyone or not, what she can promise you is, that shedding your mask and people’s perception of you may be scary, yet it can also be rewarding to be your authentic self. And she guides you along the way.

And each milestone along the way heals you a little bit. You find a little more joy in life whereas before, that was something you didn’t see a lot of. Then one day, you see her in the mirror. It was just a quick glimpse, but you seen her. It’s weeks before you see her again, but she lingers a little longer. And over the next few years she replaces him in the mirror until you hardly see him anymore. You wonder if he was ever real or not. You make new connections, and you lose some connections in your life. Yet, you gain new connections that are much stronger.

Your relationship with your kids becomes stronger when you thought they’d hate you. 4 years after meeting your therapist, you have your first surgery. And you’re riding high. 5 years after meeting your therapist you have the big surgery. That’s the moment your soul is healed. You say goodbye to your therapist because you don’t need her anymore. In parting you leave her this message that is the most profound thing you were ever told, even if you thought it was a lie.

You tell her that once upon a time, there was this kid who dared to dream. He was told he could be anything he wanted to be when he grew up. So, he became a woman and lived happily ever after. All it took was for one person to believe in her and to support her and she found that she could do anything she wanted to in the world because all she had to do was dream it and then manifest it.

Dear Unsealed,
WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE
DARE TO DREAM
Since I am almost seventy-five
I will tell you a story of my life behind my eyes.
I was one to read music magazines,
All the boy bands and whims
Of rock and roll
Blues and soul
At the incredibly youthful age of ten.
Yes, I did begin to dream to win.
I worked hard.
Played hard.
I studied hard.
It was the seventies,
Then the eighties,
Then the nineties,
I worked at the LA Times in the eighties.
End of the eighties
I was working as a makeup artist.
And let us wind down there.
You might not have time to spare,
As I have thousands of stories to tell
As deep as a wishing well.
The nineties were good,
As I was forty going on twenty-five
As it seemed to a few bees in a hive.
My first dream job was The LA Times,
But I met a man and forgot to be sublime.
My second job per say
Happened in freelance journalism and film
With my new guy
And no rhyme at that time
I worked with The American Indian Movement in the nineties.
I met john Trudell,
And that went well.
We were there to interview
For a documentary film
The Palomino Club of North Hollywood
So, I have stood
In so many good places and even on a whim.
I met Sonny Bono, the Mayor of Palm Springs at a POW WOW
So how
Did I do that you say?
That is for another day.
I joined up with Women in Film
On a whim.
The nineties came along
To sing another song
I met another guy,
A music writer by trade.
My new guy took me to a special party
In Burbank,
To a Christmas party
Really swank.
I dressed up in fancy high heel boots
To walk by my guy in his suit
My dress was a tight mini skirt and top,
And all were cream of crop.
We drove there to the valet,
Then I walked into the door with my guy
Waving at friends in high places
We were sitting at our reserved table
To wine and dine at the insatiable
CMA
Country Music Association Christmas Party
Music, dancing, food, and ‘party hardy’.
I could go on to tell you more,
But I will say later my friend
Before you get bored.
MUSIC TURNS MY WORLD!
This is a tiny burst
Of my adventures of blurs
And good times
Of rhyme
Or reason
For the season!
Love is real
It’s a deal
Of the good, the bad, the ugly
Of time spans of decades
Of love, heartache, laughter, blues
Facades
Of time
To smile at my life
The strife
At almost 75
I have written a song
From my back pages of strife of life.
My song, “I Woke up Alone”
The song
Was published on Apple
A full song on Spotify
Of life, love from above
To be a woman at 75
Alive
Still rocking & rolling
To the beat.
The publication of my song
Was to say the least
My newest job of sweet sighs
Of “I did it.”

Write, write, write!
Letter by letter
Press by press
Line by line, each dot connects.

Write, write, right?
You did it, you did,
Every key typed in
Every lettered line is drawn tight.
Writing done right.

In books, on pages,
In emails and spaces
A mark you have left for the ages.

Online, offline, books, or naught
A writer, you are, but forget you should not.