It’s strange to think that of all letters I’ve ever written, this is the one I’ve found it hardest to find words for. I found you, or should I say: we found each other, when I most needed to be found.
You took the timid, adrift, six-year-old me and taught me a new language, introduced me to a new world and with that new world, gave me dreams and a purpose. You became my escape and my outlet, during the trouble and the tidal tests; you stayed even for the brighter days and the happiness.
You, Writing, are the one passion that has never stepped out of fashion, the one dream that has never faltered, and the one thing that has never made me doubt my ability. You gave me a voice when I needed one; a voice that I could raise before I was comfortable showing my face.
You introduced me to fiction, in which, over time, I discovered my own fact.
Writing, I’ve grown up with you and grown more in love with you as time has gone on. You’ve never given up on me.
So now, in this letter, with these words that mark the page: I promise to never give up on you…