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  • CHECK OUT OUR FINALISTS FOR OUR CONTEST: Write a letter to someone who inspired you

    Hey All! Please check out below our writing contest submissions for Write A letter to someone who inspired you

     

    We have two prizes:

    Our first prize is $350 chosen by our judges.

    Our second prize is a $300 prize for whoever gets the most votes.

    Member votes count five times. Non-members can vote as well, but they only count once. They can do so by clicking the heart below the letter and adding their email address.

     The votes will only count until May 31st at 6pm Eastern Time. 

    Winners will be announced JUNE 1

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  • Unique Inspiration

    Looking at myself in the mirror and wondering who is my truest inspiration? I became conflicted with my thoughts for a brief moment. Asking myself another question, would it be selfish to write about myself? I observed the feelings and thoughts that surfaced. Feeling selfish for being an inspiration to myself comes from conditioning that started at a very young age. I wouldn’t say that I have never had anyone inspire me, because people have inspired me. The decision to write about myself is not selfish at all. It is pure vulnerability and a beautiful form of art. A masterpiece in the making. When I was born, I was two months premature, diagnosed with Bilateral Cleft Lip and Cleft Palate. A hole the size of a nickle in my heart, that was diagnosed as a PDA (Patent Ductus Arteriosus) heart murmur. Most cases the murmur will close on its own, with severe cases surgery will be needed! When reaching age four, open heart surgery was necessary. The scar runs from the center of my left side directing up and around my back, stopping just below my neck. Surgeries started as an infant and was needed to graft me a complete mouth. With a bilateral cleft lip and palate, the front part of your gum area is disconnected from the rest. In my situation, it left the palate facing outward. That is because I did not just have a one sided cleft lip, it was bilateral. Most babies will only develop a one sided cleft lip. I have two scars that connect to my grafted mouth. I only had two small pieces of lip on each side of my mouth. In the United States alone, 1 in every 1,600 babies are born with both cleft lip and cleft palate. My diagnosis is the least common, only 9% of babies in the United States are born with it. I still get flashbacks of the butterfly needle for the blood being drawn from my body. It was so difficult for a Phlebotomist to find a vein, the worst one was the top of my small foot. When you go to elementary school, you get to play and be a child. So many times I had to sit on the sidelines and watch kids play. I could not tell you exactly how many surgeries it was, I lost count long ago. Two of the most intense surgeries I recall were two of my last. When I was in the 5th grade, doctors wanted to take a piece of bone out of my hip and graft it into my nose. The purpose of that was to fill the open hole at the roof of my mouth. The pain was almost unbearable to walk because of the incision on my hip. I had to be on a walker and crutches for months. The bone didn’t really take like it was supposed to either. I had no other options because every time I drank something it came out of my nose. After the long healing process of that, it started to decay and release from the graft. That was a traumatizing experience. The 2nd surgery was right after my dad passed away in 2004, I was scared to go under anesthesia without being able to wake up to him and mom both being there. I made the choice to be awake, with laughing gas and numbing medication shots in my mouth. The surgery was to cut through my grafted gums and hook small chains on the two baby teeth that didn’t grow in properly. That is common with cleft babies. The smell of my own burning flesh and the sounds of the tools being used was too much. I had no choice but to sit through it because I refused to go under the knife without my dad. I appreciate and applaud the doctors and nurses that did their very best to give me a better life. In the year 2000 I had an ear infection that needed medical treatment. On my way to the hospital in a very rural area and winding roads, I got car sick. It was just me and my mother, she had to pull over so I wouldn’t get sick in the car. I thought I puked and leaned back and shut the door. I did not actually shut the door, I became unresponsive and started having a seizure. I had to be rushed to the hospital. She was so alone in that situation and I am forever thankful for her. I woke up from a month long coma at a Women’s and Children hospital. At only 8 years old I was diagnosed with Bacterial Meningitis. A helicopter had to be flown in so I could be flown out to a hospital that was better equipped to take care of me. While I was hospitalized I was diagnosed with a benign brain tumor, on the frontal lobe. Thankfully it is benign and I didn’t need brain surgery. With a benign tumor however, most people or children will develop seizures. For a long time I had these feelings of it being too late for me, I wouldn’t make it much longer! I want to say to you in this moment, it is not too late for anyone. No matter what you go through in life, keep going and don’t you give up! I am 30 years old today and I am here to tell you, I am my own inspiration. I am a unique form of art with many scars. I am inspiring to myself because it took courage, strength, and resilience to make it this far. The journey of my own life has inspired me to truly break free from my upbringing and chase my dreams. I am my own unique inspiration!

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  • A letter to the person that has inspired me the most

     

         You have no idea what you have done. I cannot begin to describe the significance that your actions have had on myself, as well as my life. As a child, I vividly remember how you were there for me any time necessary. Every time I wrecked my bicycle, you were there. You would pick me up off the hard, extremely coarse pavement and dust me off. You would spin me around as you scanned my entire body for damages done, and signs of hurt. Once you finished your assessments (regardless as to how intensely I would be crying) of my damages, you would pick my chin up, look me dead in the eyes and assure me of the fact that I would be okay. Although during those times, my body would ache tremendously, and bleed profusely, I would gain a sudden confidence in myself, because of your words. I knew (even at that young age) that you always meant what you said. Truth always formed in your heart and traveled through you until it’s departure from your lips. To this day, I still don’t know if you’ll quite understand just how much that means to me. No matter how I articulate it to you.

    In my early years, you were very stern, however now that I have two sons of my own years later, I know now that your sternness comes from a place of love. It takes more courage and strength to do or say what is necessary as a parent, as opposed to letting a child do or say what they want. This is how you taught me many things. In doing so, you taught me the difference between right and wrong. You did the absolute best you could in ensuring that you instilled manners in me. It worked. I recall being roughly five years old, walking inside of our town Wal-Mart around Christmas time. The man dressed as Santa Clause offered a piece of candy to me. I happily took his offering and responded to him with a “thank you”. We made it roughly ten paces from him as we walked into the various aisles of the store when you took the time to tell me “Thank you, for saying thank you to him”. Your compliment was a reward in my eyes for communicating my appreciation to the man for his offering of candy. This is something that has stuck with me forever.

    You were a police officer for ten years. During that time, you remained humble, as well as kept an altruistic nature in your serving of the public. You were genuinely there to help people, and you did just that. You did so with the honest intentions of helping whenever, and wherever needed. Any time we were in a group setting, your presence was welcomed, and respected by the others. They would look to you for advice on any given subject. During conversations, they patiently and understandingly awaited your responses.

    When you would take me to your weightlifting sessions with your fellow officers, you kept a positive attitude. You would all laugh and encourage each other to do more. You would all talk about things and laugh deeply. You weren’t the biggest or the strongest of the lot, however you were still able to lift the same amount of weight with ease. I remember listening to the music you would play over the stereo in the field house weight room, while you all strengthened your minds and bodies. I remember singing along to “Fly” by Sugar Ray while you all took turns bench pressing at least two hundred and twenty-five pounds.

    You took me everywhere with you. whether it be a trip to the local convenience store, or for a peaceful trip to the lake to do some fishing. Regardless of the destination, the memories made on the journeys have stuck within me throughout all these years. I like to believe there’s a good reason for this. We listened to music everywhere we went. We would sing along to our favorite songs, while flying down the highway at all hours of the day or night. Sometimes to the scene of a crime in your police care, sometimes to grab a new video game from the local store in your Chevy s-10. Either way, we jammed. Always.

    Alongside these core values you instilled in me, are also some of the best memories I behold. These core beliefs and memories, in conjunction with my imagination, have had a tremendous impact on the person I’ve become today. I spent many years making bad choices. I felt the weight of the consequences (I would say more-so than your average person) every time. I would hear your voice saying things to me. This also occurred through-out the duration of my addiction. Most people get high and feel like God himself. Not me. I felt miserable. Shameful. Guilty. For years.

    Now that I’m sober, I still hear your voice sometimes. Whether it be while debating on which choice to make, or when I experience something that reminds me of you, and your loving spirit. I will admit that I hear it less and less, seeing as how I’m now able to make choices that are good for me, as well as those around me, hence the lessoning amount and frequency of your guiding words in my mind. I believe it’s because you taught me which kinds of choices I should make, and for a long time I didn’t make those choices. Now I am.

     I’m now bettering myself in every way that I’m capable of doing so. I’m now working on things that bring me peace. I’m now working on things for a reason much bigger, and greater than myself. I’m now able to give and show love to others. For so long I wasn’t truly able to that, due to the battle that was going on within me. My want to give and show love to others was always in me, and I tried to do so, I was unable to properly actualize doing it. Things are much better now for me, and to be honest, my circumstances as a whole are not considered “great” by any means. However, the values and virtues within me are now able to externalize themselves as kind acts for others, regardless of the amount of adversity I currently face daily, as I continue trying to make a better life for myself simultaneously.

    I’m now able to face my problems with a level, clear head effectively. I take pride in that. Although I am starting fresh in the opportunity that I’ve been given, and I can’t help but to feel beyond grateful for these bold, love encompassed choices I now make. You taught me everything I needed to know about how to successfully navigate these open waters that I call life. I know I wasn’t an easy child to raise by any means (nor was I the most compliant of adults) yet you consistently did and said what you believed was necessary, and I’m here today to tell you that it paid off.  I find myself becoming more like you day by day. I used to despise that fact (especially when others would point out the obvious similarities we share) that we were a lot alike, however I’m now grateful beyond belief. I have you to thank for that.

    I’m not sure that you’ll ever read this, and that’s okay. You don’t need to, because I know that my actions have been, and will continue to ring true of my words in this arrangement, and you will see for yourself. I look forward to that day. You didn’t just positively impact my life, you laid the foundational values and virtues by which I would ultimately live my life by. Again, I am beyond grateful to say that to me, you are the one person in this universe that inspired me the most, Dad.

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  • WINNER: The Wounded Bird Flies Faster

    Dear heartbreaker,

    You inspired me to fly. By cutting off my wings and pushing me over the edge, I had to learn to soar without anything to hold me up. But without the extra weight of your casual abuse sitting on my shoulders, I was light enough to escape through an unfamiliar sky like a shooting star.

    Love will change you. Unreciprocated love will transform you. Your cold absence brought me closer to my own soul until I was able to feel the warmth that shone from within. I learned who I am without your shadow forcing me into tight boxes and neat lines. I am no longer ashamed of the years I spent on you. You taught me how to love. Now it’s time I take the love I had for you and give it back to myself.

    Life’s greatest lessons are not learned through textbooks, but through the words and actions of another flesh and bone human with a heart as fragile as yours. You taught me patience (I was always waiting for you to change). You taught me kindness (I was soft for a man who only knew darkness). You taught me vulnerability (I let my thoughts spill onto your lap in the hopes that you would do the same). But most of all, you taught me that no matter how hard you fight for someone, how much you care for them, or how much you love them, it will never be enough if they are unwilling to face even their own reflection in the mirror.

    I once heard that we accept the love we think we deserve. I guess that means you always knew you didn’t deserve me, and I’m so sorry to myself for not realizing that until much, much later.

    The tides of grief are not always chaotic. It is not always inflicting destruction upon the mind or rushing against the dam we construct within our hearts so as not to feel the hurt. Sometimes the tides of grief are calm, soft, ebbing and flowing just like our joy ebbs and flows. Sometimes it comes when we least expect it, when we think it had went away forever. Like when I don’t realize I’m still looking for you until I see the back of a dark-haired stranger and stop in my tracks, hoping it’s you. Or when I catch the flicker of a hearty laugh that sounds just like yours. Or when someone hugs me and I somehow crumble into their embrace, confusing their arms for yours.

    But in spite of the wounds you have inflicted upon me, I am still grateful for you. This human existence is full of bliss and sorrow, laughter and pain, love and heartache, and by the fated coincidence of two souls such as ours briefly merging, I was able to experience the entire spectrum of these emotions within you, one simple human. I am excited to continue on with my life, my heart so broken it is forever cracked open and ready to receive the love of future characters who won’t have to be told to handle me delicately.

    So thank you, heartbreaker, for destroying the girl I used to be. Without you, I would have never been inspired to find who I am now.

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  • Positively affected my life? You know who you are

    This letter is to a very special someone who came into my life not long ago. I wish much longer ago, but hey, better late than never, right?
    This person has had an unbelievable effect on me. It’s not just something that I recognize- my friends who I have known for 20,30, 40 some years recognized it too. Immediately.
    I may have been someone who was in a rut..or a routine, to be more positive 🙂
    I liked what I liked, I did what I liked, I was single. I could come and go as I pleased. The routine was very established, but it wasn’t something too bad, in my opinion.
    But then I met this very special person. And everything changed. For the better. And I have always been someone who is generally resistant to change. But this change I welcomed with open arms.
    She made me realize the silliness of saying “I don’t like that particular food”, even though the next sentence would be “I’ve never tried it”. She pushed me to get out of the comfort zone of my peaceful suburban existence, and to not just tolerate , then get accustomed to, but ultimately enjoying her more urban neighborhood. Even with all its challenges. Well, things I thought were challenges, but now are things I love. Like finding parking- anywhere- 😊, like being good at parallel parking instead of being afraid of it, sadly lol, like getting familiar with a whole other neighborhood besides my own. Like getting me to know that there are many, many things to do in life- that the status quo doesn’t have to be enough.
    She made me realize that traveling is a GOOD thing, that experiencing new things is a GOOD thing. She taught me to believe in myself, to be more confident, to just kind of say “screw it!” and be more spontaneous, instead of always wanting to have a plan or overthink everything. She made me a better person. She gave me things to look forward to in life, not just do the things that are part of a rut/routine. She made me realize that it’s ok to talk to others- even a therapist- about things that are on my mind. That doing that is not a sign of weakness. But actually a sign of strength. She made me realize to not take things or especially people for granted. She pushed me. She supported me. She just made me a much better Jim Corrao. I could see it, anyone that knew me could see it. I never thought the old me was anything bad. Neither did my friends. But they saw the changes in me, and were very supportive and very excited for me. From easily visible things like new white Nike tennis shoes, new clothes, new style, and just a generally happier attitude. She truly and easily did all that. And changing me is not something truly or easily done. I will be forever grateful to this amazing dynamo of a woman. I look forward to seeing how else she can impact me. Can’t wait 🙂

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  • Words of Wisdom

    It’s hard to narrow down one person who positively impacted my life since I was blessed with amazing parents and grandparents, but as I sit here and contemplate I don’t want to make it the Obvious choices. I wanted to think outside the box and give credit to a person and a profession who help impact children’s life’s everyday.

    Teachers work long hours and little credit for all that they do. My 6th grade teacher to this days words are stuck in my head. When ever one of us would act up she would always say “young people … a mind is terrible thing to waste”. We would then have to repeat “ and a wasted mind is terrible”. At the time I had no idea what it actually meant. She was always encouraging us to think outside the box, developing our minds to think for itself, punctuality and staying focused.

    As I grow older and develop myself and my career I realize she had an huge impact. I love math but I was never the text book math guy. She taught me that it was ok to learn new ways to find out math problems as long as I could explain my logic and reasoning. Turns out I ended up being pretty good at math. Those lessons taught me to think outside the box to solve issues and problems while also thinking for myself.

    The next lesson of punctuality stays with me to this day. She would not tolerate tardiness. It may sound cruel but students who were tardy would have to sit in hallway until the next period would start and would have to read. Being prompt is important in the business world. Your time is not more valuable than someone else’s and that’s part of the lesson I learned.

    I used to talk a lot in her class and she would preach focus. My desk would be separate a lot of times so I couldn’t talk to other students. As soon as I would behave I would be right back with the group. She would always tell me how smart I was when focused.

    Looking back at it she was a very tough strict teacher but taught me many life lessons. I decided to take the leep of faith into the entrepreneurial world this year. Everyday I just think if I didn’t have a teacher like her would I have made the jump and took a chance on myself.

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  • Dear Mom,

    Dear mom,
    I get it now. I understand the pain.
    The regret before the regret. The desire for self-mastery.
    But the failure of achievement creeps in like the sleepless nights you
    encountered. The self-loathing in the shower. How tired were you? Truly. When Sis and I would fight over remotes while the kitchen
    stove burned hot. How your bones must’ve
    ached. Where did you find the patience? If so,
    can I go to this place? Can you continue to
    hold my hand through this? One day
    we will all be ash. Somehow oblivion doesn’t
    seem so scary looking through your eyes. The
    eyes of a hero. My wolf queen. The creator of
    us. Your power shines through our voices like
    the howl of the moon. I love you. Thank you. I
    get it now. The pain in your womb, the
    emptiness that lies ahead when we walk our
    separate paths, and I trip. You weren’t there to
    catch me, and I can hear the fear in your voice.
    I hear the echo of your worry ringing in me
    when I close my eyes. I worry now too. When she leaves my
    sight, even for a split second. I feel the emptiness. The loss of other parents. I feel their sorrow in every heartbeat until I see her again. This world is gross, mommy. You
    showed me what it is to love purely. I call it
    luck. I’ve seen the unfortunate events that
    come with love. Love is pain. There’s beauty in
    that. For you, I write. I print these letters with
    the blood that came from my birth. With every breath,
    these veins pulse with excitement to share the
    truth. Your truth. What lies beneath the
    umbilical whip of life. The nutrients of your
    teachings. I carry them with me like a suitcase.
    “Can’t leave home without it!” I always say.
    Appreciate me. Know me. Love me. Take me
    with you for protection, and I will be your pepper
    spray. I will be the x on your map to treasures
    unknown. I mark you 3×3 because I am you, and
    you are me. We are we. Toes and hands alike.
    Warriors against the ink that says we aren’t
    worthy. We are not men. We are weak, they say. You
    sure showed them! You are a legion of men.
    Your strength carries me through every blink,
    every inhale. Where did you find it? Where did
    you get it? Is this another realm I do not know?
    Can we visit it together? If there’s a road less
    traveled, take me. Hold my hand as I hold
    hers. Will I ever be able to fill your fuzzy socks? I aim to earn your title and wear it like a suit of armor. I hope to be the Matriarch you are to our clan. My dearest teacher, how can I part with you on this journey to your destination? In the end, we’ll all hold the batons. Dear mom. I get it now, I think.

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  • WINNER: A Letter To The Woman They Would Not Name

    A Letter To The Woman They Would Not Name:

    When I was learning about you, they told me that you climbed several mountains in your career. One-hundred-and-thrity-five books later, It wouldn’t be until your last decades that they finally called you by name. They said “You scaled heights that hadn’t been reached before. You were a woman who overtook mountains.” But when I was standing in front of your glass-cased typewriter, looking at the worn keys your fingers touched to trailblaze a path: for yourself, for me, and for women like us everywhere: I knew that description was all wrong. You didn’t climb the mountain: you became it.

    Let’s talk about you. Your becoming started in the state of Iowa as the youngest sibling of two. The year was 1919 and you were surrounded by women in floor-length plaid skirts who are told what they’re always told: the greatest thing you can do with your life is marry a man: a rich one at that. You were only thirteen and you wanted to do more. So you sold your first short story: The Courtsey. Even at the age of thirteen, you knew in order to become the artist you were destined to be you needed a way out. From The Courtsey forward you wrote short stories to put yourself through college. And while it was nearly impossible to build a portfolio when female writers had to write under psuedonyms, you paid for your entire education using only the tips of your fingers. Your early-wed friends expressed their concerns for your financial stability. And as the first woman and person to ever graduate from the journalism program: you set out to prove that for a lifetime they’d eat their words and read yours.

    In the late 1920’s you were offered your dream career: a novelist. The problems with novelists in your day were great. In order to be a published woman, you were to sign away all of your rights in exchange for a flat fee and work under a pseudonym. As if that wasn’t enough: you weren’t allowed to outline your own stories. The publishing head would script out an outline and you were to fill the skeleton with body. While this was anything but the creative liberty you deserved, you went with it. Your publisher fought you tooth and nail on the stories you created at first. The women were “much too flip” as they said. But, by some grace, The Nancy Drew Series was first published on April 30th, 1930.

    This would be the first chapter book series that sparked my interest in reading and life. In a rural Texas elementary school in the early 2000’s, we met on the pages of The Hidden Staircase for the first time. The narrative I discovered in your voice at an impressionable age is one that has stuck with me for a lifetime. You created worlds for me to live in where women were the heroines. It wouldn’t be until later that I found out your characters had been softened to be more palatable female: an action you fought relentlessly. Yet your narrative lived on, fearlessness was synonymous with femininity. And at the end of your life and the beginning of mine: you taught me that women are not meant for the “namby-pamby” as you said. We’re meant for life’s greatest adventures. We’re meant for the mountains.

    When I visited your typewriter in Chicago seventeen years after your passing and twenty-one years into my life, I had written you a letter. I wrote it at a typewriter next to yours. On those pages, I recalled the great adventure that you made your life into: from earning a commercial pilot’s license to canoeing Central American Mayan Ruins. I told you about how I’ve always known my purpose to write. I was creating my first work and becoming acquainted with the word no. For many years, I’d been told stories were not a first-class option for creating my dream life adventure. But, that’s not what you said. A woman who was told she would be the first writer to be fired. We talked about this in the letter and more. I signed it as yours truly with a postscript that said just one thing: “pass the torch.”

    In April 2021 at age twenty-three, my first mystery novel was traditionally published. Since then, I’ve met with many naysayers who have criticized the unconventional nature of the women in my work. But yesterday, I packed up my apartment to go on my next great life adventure. One that I’ve dreamed for awhile. With a pen in my hand, I’ll take the light you’ve passed on to the mountain ranges, where I’ll build my own summit right next to the one named: Mildred Benson.

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  • The Online Connection That Would Change My Life

    Dear Family Member,

    It’s hard to believe that we’ve known each other for nine years now. It feels more like five years than nine. That’s how much fun & a blessing this journey has been for me. I’m so grateful that we crossed paths.

    To think, it all started by meeting each other on a website called Christianity Oasis.

    After messaging other members & being in a good mood, I almost logged off that site for today, but, for some reason, I decided to hang around a little longer.

    So I stayed looking at a quiet chatroom for several minutes. And then you arrived. I thought one of the other members would say something to speak to you, but, no one was typing.

    ”Hello?”, you said

    Still nothing from no one else. So, finally, I replied back, just to make you feel welcomed. Just from our first interaction, I could sense you were a really kind person. Plus, I was glad to make you laugh too.

    We would chat a few more times on Christianity Oasis before moving to Yahoo to talk. After chatting on Yahoo for a while, then we started messaging each other on Facebook & then Glide.

    The positive impact you were having on me was already enormous. Like, teaching me things like how to do taxes online or how to cook French Toast.
    Your big heart for others inspired me to share that same love for those that want/need it. Despite my best efforts, It’ll never be as much as the love you send to others.

    You would embrace me like I was a member of your family (who I loved).

    The biggest impact you had on me, I didn’t see coming until it came to pass. You would start sharing the blogs you were writing on this site called WordPress.

    It had me curious to read your writings. It was great to read about your early life & how things were in the 60s/70s from your perspective. I couldn’t get enough of reading your blogs & then you would stop writing them.

    At first, I thought maybe you were taking a break from them. But, then, the more time had passed since your last blog, the more it sunk in, that you weren’t gonna share any more of your early adventures.

    A month or two later, curiosity would push me to start writing blogs of my own. I opened up a WordPress account & started writing about a Saturday morning of watching cartoons.

    When I typed, it was as if the words were flowing from my hands like a waterfall. This just felt…right. After finishing my first post, I felt great.
    ”That was fun”, I thought.

    I couldn’t wait to write the next idea I had for a blog. Once again, I let the words flow from my hands to the WordPress page.

    The topic was about the loaded Western Conference & the Lebron Conference for the upcoming 2017-2018 NBA season. Another blog is done. I would get my first like ever with that post.
    That really made me feel good! It felt like I was onto something with this writing thing.

    The third blog is when I began sharing my writings on Facebook. I thought maybe one or two of my family/friends would react to it. To my surprise, I had seven of them respond positively to my blog. I was stunned.

    I would continue to write & learn how much creativity I had buried inside of me that needed to be released. My writing journey would lead me to other writing sites like Booksie, Medium, Newsbreak & eventually… The Unsealed.

    All this was possible because of you.

    It’s because of you, I’ve learned to be more open than I was in the past. I’ve also become a better person over these last nine years. And finally, it’s because of you, that Gerald the writer/storyteller was born four years ago.

    I could never thank you enough for the overwhelming impact you’ve had on my life. It won’t stop me from trying though.

    Gratefully,

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  • writingsfromthegarden submitted a contest entry to Group logo of Write a letter to someone who inspired youWrite a letter to someone who inspired you 1 year, 9 months ago

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    To The Girl in the Mirror

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  • dragonflypdx submitted a contest entry to Group logo of Write a letter to someone who inspired youWrite a letter to someone who inspired you 1 year, 9 months ago

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    Dear Rosa Parks, Thank You for Saying “No” Your Light Shines on Me

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  • katiedibs submitted a contest entry to Group logo of Write a letter to someone who inspired youWrite a letter to someone who inspired you 1 year, 9 months ago

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    Dear Mr A.

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