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reflection on family

My father is an only man in my family.

My mother, my aunt, my two grandmothers. All of them with special witchcraft raised me to be independent woman and stand for my beliefs.

Fragile and weak (or pretending to be) was not a power of my family women. Troubles and obstacles wasn't a barrier for my family women.

When I was 3 years old my dad started calling me not a "kid" but a "citizen". With full capability to every single thing that I am prepared to live through.

Parents are used to tie me up a bit to the stable things, that if something happens I wouldn't fall so high. Protection. I am used to keep those ties. I am doing it my way. I am still going to go my classy way.

I'm hoping for minimal, aiming for maximal. I accept every curve of the road. I accept every rejection and every welcoming. 

I love them all. For the strength and for a positiveness. For witchcraft inherited from women of my family and for analytical thinking gained from my dad's brain tortures. For the understanding that man has to be strong enough to fight for their woman that I earned from grandfathers that died too early. Fight not with other men, but with woman's inner sense to reject not worthy man. With her darling, nondestructive insanity and love that she is willing to give. Fight for that love. And if he's able to do that, women will peacefully remain controllable.

with crumbs of pie and love,

P.S.: I love my grannies dirty jokes. She always has what to say.

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