Shall we dance?

Part two

“Dearest Rosa,

I would like you to write with every inch of your soul. Feel the words, bleed them out, fight them and recover from the war. Put it down on paper. Don’t be afraid, my darling, because you have millions of stories to tell and no one can do it better than you.

I believe in you. You must too. You create like there’s magic. You’re the goddess of your own realm. Write for yourself first, the readers will come for sure. It won’t be easy. Of course, it won’t. You need to give it a try and don’t you dare give up because this is your dream.

If you find the man, your man, please let him love you. You deserve that. Truly. I know you think you are very difficult to be loved, but when the right one will come your way, don’t miss the chance. It comes only once in a lifetime. Love him in return. Give him everything. You’ll have fights, it will be complicated at times, but you’ll work it out together.

Please, listen to me. Live for me. Do the things that make you happy. Love. Believe. Fight. Suffer. Heal. Be reborn. Just do it, Rosa. Don’t let anyone change you or your writings. It’s your voice to be heard in the middle of the crowd, not theirs.

I tell you all those things waiting for the moment we’ll see each other again. I can’t wait to congratulate you for your masterpieces. Until then, LIVE.

P.S: In case you doubt it, I loved you. You will always be my sister. Please do tell my parents that they need to learn how to live again, to be happy for my sake, to treasure the time. Tell them I will always be their little princess even when acting like an ass. In case you’ve already told them, thanks. Geniuses think much alike.

Your ray of happiness,


I was trembling from inside out.I didn’t think that would be even possible. Then I realized what I must do.

Photo by Kaleidico on Unsplash


I wrote again and again until i felt like I built my voice, until I believed that it was the time for me to be heard. My writings, you see, were a whole metamorphosis of my soul and mind. I was entering the world of my readers naked. Several publishing houses denied or postponed my proposals of publication. I kept my promise. I wrote other pieces, but I was aware of the fact that my voice was never totally heard by the publishers to whom I went.

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