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Courtney Was There
", Susan, when I grow up I want to be a singer!" I'd always tell my aunt graciously waiting for a positive reply.
", You'll never be good enough for that." she'd reply every time and I'd stand there blinded by her blunt words. I knew if I tried hard enough I could do anything.
", Susan, when I grow up I want to be an actress!" I started saying because in fact, acting was one of my many abilities I used ever day to get away with the worst.
", Those girls are spoiled and beautiful. Stop dreaming and be realistic." she hissed.
I had such high dreams that I felt obliged to meet but I knew that the help from family was out of the question except for one person that changed my perspective on life.
My cousin Courtney was battling with her own failure of life. Her mother, a drug addict, shuffled in and out of her life each time leaving new dents and broken pieces not worth repairing but no matter how hard life became, she was always there for me.
", Justise, You are a writer. One of the best I've ever seen." she told me one day after I confessed poetry and stories were my only escape from the real world which wasn't as pretty as I'd been told so at that I went home to my Aunt and told her ", Susan, I am going to be a writer when I grow up." and I stood tall, trembling beneath the stone cold stare.
", That's a hard job. You'll never make it." she laughed.
", Yes I will! I can do anything I set my mind to and at this point it is my goal to be a writer. I refuse to sit at home and do nothing like you!" I yelled at her and then I walked away.
See when I was little my goal was to be a model and after a long time of trying it finally came true but after I knew there was something better out there that I wanted. It was obvious that I was a writer by the time I was two years old. My writing abilities were as good as any Kindergartners and my imagery while explaining something was better than most adults but I ignored it all until Courtney pointed it out. Before then it was a special hobby I kept to myself, Hidden behind fake, perfect smiles.
Now each time I write I call Courtney and tell her.
Hearing how proud she is of me means everything for if it wasn't for her writing would still be a side hobby instead of a goal I someday dream to succeed.
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- My Mother