So who said little girls weren’t worth it? Who ever said there was no such thing as superheroes?
Why I write is for the little girl I see every day when I look in her eyes the little girl who’s been there through every step of my life bad or good.
I write for that little girl who never had anyone to lean on when she needed it most that little girl that is so strong yet so weak. That little girl who is too afraid to believe anything she hears because everyone who promised they would stay turned their backs and walked away.
I write for the little girl that is so misunderstood, for the little girl who went through so much. That beaten and battered little girl that grew up because all the “adults” where children.
I write for the little girl that kept quiet about those people that got too close without any ones compliance. That little girl that learned a one sided world, evil and sadistic, cunning and manipulative. A little girl that was turned into a bias, cold hearted soul that couldn’t look past what she experienced.
I write for that little girl that is afraid to show herself because she’s afraid of what people will see of her. I write for the little girl that did it on her own, went through more battles then anyone knows. The little girl that wouldn’t hurt a fly, but won’t let you dare witness her compassion. I write for the little girl that had a little girl of her own.
I write for the strength that everyone calls bad-tempered, the strength that people can’t imagine. I write for the little girl that scared everyone away because she couldn’t let them in. I write for her. I write so people could understand the brave little girl that made it, the powerful little girl that raised 3 of her own mostly on her own.
I write for the little girl that no one called beautiful when in fact, she should of heard it every day of her life. I write for the one who is the first to stand up for anyone and the last to back down. I write for the little girl that always though she couldn’t dream because she felt her life was already set and of no control of the outcome. The little girl that could have had the world at her finger tips if only she had just one person to stand next to her and say “You aren’t what you believe you are, but much more. You aren’t what all those people said you are, but much, much more. You are enough. You are everything you want to be. You are wonderful.”
If this little girl would have felt wanted, felt loved, felt secure; she would have made the world feel so small, so insignificant because she is everything and yet nothing at all. I write for the girl that always straddled the line of giving up and seeing how much more she could handle; the one that remembered the reason she kept fighting in the first place. I write for her; because she gave me everything with nothing.