I write.

I write. I write for my mother, a woman who came from nothing but strived to give us everything. A woman made bitter by years of hardship, but loved with a lion's heart, fierce and unwavering. A woman who raised me to dream and achieve, and never let me forget to stop and count the stars. A woman who sacrificed everything to provide me with opportunities she had only dreamt of. A woman who has made me who I am today. I write. I write for my father, a man who always made home so safe and warm. A man who taught me to laugh and enjoy the smallest moments in life. A man who provided and would protect us against anything. A man who had adventured through life and had seen more than I could ever imagine. A man who held his family close and provided light in the darkest of times. I write. I write for those who have not the courage to speak, or perhaps simply cannot find the words to convey what is in their hearts. I write for myself, so that I may always remember where I come from and who I am. I write because it's who I am and who I was meant to be. I write of love, love lost and love found - but never a love forgotten. I write of family, the tragedies and ties - often broken, and less often mended. I write of hope, of dreams and ambitions, of inspiration and admiration. I write with the intention of touching hearts and minds through the beautiful, intricate weaving of words, creating a meaning and understanding that transcends all audiences. I write because I am able. I write because I am me. I write because I write.