EDITOR’S LETTER- AUGUST 2017 ● YOUR GREATEST ASSET IN BALKAN.

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I’ve been driven in a Rolls. I’ve partied at The Ritz. I’ve owned Louboutins and dined at some of the finest restaurants in the world. I’ve rubbed shoulders with the “elite” and most likely done drugs with your kids. There is no need to judge me, just make sure the grass in your own garden is trimmed. I open my Editor’s Letter with a paradox, one where I show that it takes a lot to impress me. Essentially, I have seen and heard it all, about myself and others. 

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I’M A WRITER & ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

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When I write from my heart, I write for no one but myself. I don’t consider who I may hurt or offend, who may think lesser of me- Nobody is factored into my work when I write. I write to those wounds that open up and say “please heal me,” I write to that part of me that never felt it was enough. I write until tears fall past my cheeks and another layer of my hate for myself is unravelled. I write for my inner child, one who was always afraid to be transparent and always shamed for sharing her truth. I write to document my progress forward, sometimes even backward. I write to inform myself that I am no longer my pain, I am no longer it’s prisoner and each word I release into the world is another step closer to freedom- But I have a very long way to go.

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