little black book... |letter #44|

Dear My Future Daughter, 

Sweet beauty, you will be the delight in my eyes.  I write to you because I desire that you learn from me the flaws and perfections of human experiences.  Baby girl, life itself is beautiful but it is the journey that makes it worthwhile.  I don't mean to sound cliche, I promise I will be the cool mom, but when I say I want you to cherish your moments, I mean it. 

I share with you a piece of  my little black book, so feel free to peek around. I'll keep it short and sweet but before you read, I don't want to you to be overwhelmed. Ask me anything you want, it's okay to tell me the whole truth and nothing but the truth. If you don't like something, tell me. If you do, tell me for sure.  

Baby girl, I love you more than you could ever know. So I write these notes for you. 

Love,

Stephanie 

Courtesy of We Heart It

on my own... |letter #43|

Dear My Future Husband, 

I don't really want to talk about this, but I know that I need to get it out of my system.  I didn't even know who to talk about it with, who to address it to really, but I figured since you're supposed to be my best friend, it should be you.  I don't know how to say this without being completely obvious, but I'll try my best. I no longer feel at home.  Instead, I feel as if I should feel guilty for who I am in this place.  I am often looked upon as being able to afford what others can't and have often experienced the obligation to provide for those based these silent declarations.  Vague, I know, but when I really tell you in the privacy of my home, you will understand. 

Basically, I am borderline being taken advantage of because of where I stand today.  According to those, I am not allowed to ask for help, because I should never need it.  I should never be of need because everything will be handed to me.  I don't deserve the freebies of others because I should be one giving away.  So when I do need, I am the one at fault. When I do seek, I am the one to blame.  The good things I have done don't count.  It doesn't that I have remained humble, considerate, and respectful. It matters where I came from and what I represent. I don't deserve to be taken care of. 

Simply, because it wouldn't be fair to someone else and I am too privileged. 

Love,

Stephanie 

Courtesy of We Heart It