#LoveMe Challenge | Day 4
Hello, lovelies!
It's Day #4, and I'm starting to get into a rhythm with these posts, which is always good. (: Thanks for sticking with me so far, and here's to a great rest of the month.
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That is all.
Cheers,
Seana
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It's Day #4, and I'm starting to get into a rhythm with these posts, which is always good. (: Thanks for sticking with me so far, and here's to a great rest of the month.
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A Person Who Loves You
This picture was taken almost four years ago, when I was fourteen. This was my 8th grade banquet picture, and I remember wearing this purple dress that brushed the middle of my shins and shimmered softly when the light caught it just right. It had halter straps and sparkles going down the middle of the front piece, and I had never felt so fancy in my life.
Next to me in this picture is my mom. "Mum," as I like to call her.
Since this picture was taken, we've both cut our hair to shorter lengths, and time has worn us both down from the events of the past years. I've always been the reckless one in my family, daring to go farther out than my brothers did, reaching higher and pushing myself to the limit. Being adopted, I always thought I had to prove that I could do things just as well as all the white friends I had around me, but my mom never made me feel inadequate. When I was little, she'd pull out the calendar I had with puppies on it, and every night we'd put a sticker on the day that had just come to an end. She'd read me a story, and then she'd always tell me she loved me before tucking me in.
Even now, as I'm rounding up my senior year, she's been nothing but supporting and lovely through my college search and boy problems. I've come home from school sobbing before, but she always just pulls me into a hug without asking questions. She once told me that it makes her sad to see me sad, regardless of why I'm feeling that way, and that kind of pure empathy is hard to find.
When I went through my phase of wearing enough eyeliner to be mistaken for a goth, she still loved me and didn't tell me that I was an idiot for thinking that was cute. She lets me make my own mistakes and figure out the world on my own, even though I know she would love nothing more than for me to never be hurt in my life. And that takes true love. Letting someone go and live their life, bumps and bruises included, is one of the hardest things to do if you love someone. But she's done it.
And I couldn't be more grateful.
Cheers,
Seana
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