A message (rant) to everyone who loves Delta, everyone who hates her, and everyone in between. This is for you all.

I just posted this in a twitlonger on twitter but I'm going to post it on here too, exactly as I wrote it for twitter.


Okay so. This is probably going to take a while to write, with lots of tears, biting my pillow in anger and listening to @delta_goodrem to calm me down.

I really just need to say that I am sick to death of the shit Delta cops. She doesn't deserve it, that's the bottom line. Hearing particular things from Chelsea tonight, I actually want to scream and cry. Well, I've done a bit of that already but you get my point. Without going into specific details, it seems that Delta is already getting so much shit from being on The Voice. She gets called fake ALL the fucking time, and by who? People who watch her on TV, or watch her filming the TV show, and see a specific side of her. Obviously that 'fakeness' is a side of her that comes out more when she's judging. And no shit! She's competing against three other coaches to get the best team. Those coaches are all male and it makes it fucking hard for her!! She's likely to be a bit insecure and unsure of herself in that situation, and really who can blame her, being constantly dominated by men like that?!!

Those people who call her fake, they should be shot. I'll do it my fucking self. They see a particular side of her coming out. BUT IT'S NOT FUCKING HER, WHY CAN THEY NOT SEE THAT?!!!!
If some of these people met her, they'd be too blindsided by their opinions of her already that they wouldn't see her for what she truly is. Her real fans know what a beautiful, genuine, caring, loving, UN-FAKE woman she is.

Her head is screwed on tight, she's not an idiot. She may be a little ditzy and blonde at times, but she's not stupid, she knows what she's talking about. And if she tries to skate around the subject, like trying to be nice while telling someone they're shit, she gets called a pussy or whatever. But if she tells it like it is, she gets called rude, a bitch, etcetera et-fucking-cetera.

And she's just so perfect and beautiful and so fucking talented but no one gives a shit because they think she's fake just because of what they see on TV and in the media and its just so fucking wrong and judgmental.

I just wish people would look behind that TV exterior and see what's underneath.
In the exact words of Teresa, "I want the world to sit in a room for an hour and listen to nothing but Delta; her material, her lyrics, her music, her voice, her live songs, her B-List songs. I want them to google photos of her. I want them to recognise how amazing she is with her fans. She deserves everything and its just ah, I feel so helpless. I just want her to have a lot more recognition. She's far too talented not to."
This is EXACTLY what I'm trying to say! If people stopped and took the time to realise what she's ACTUALLY like, they would realise that she's the biggest sweetheart ever. They probably wouldn't understand without actually meeting her, but even videos and stuff show her true colours more than The Voice stuff. It's not her. And I wish people could realise that for once and stop hating her for nothing. She doesn't deserve that shit, and while she's definitely the strongest woman I've ever had the privilege to meet, she will end up cracking under the pressure and the hate she's copping, because some people are too heartless to care that their words may actually be hurting someone really badly. It doesn't just hurt Delta, it hurts everyone who loves her, all her fans.

I still feel like I have so much more to say but in actual fact it'll probably just end up being repetitive just because of how strongly I feel about this.

Retweet this if you agree, maybe we can try and show at least a couple of people what Delta Lea Goodrem is actually like in person.

And to all the haters... A big FUCK YOU.

Dear Nanna

I remember last Christmas. We knew you were unwell, and deteriorating. I personally didn't know the extent of it. But we knew it would probably be your last Christmas with us, so we tried to make it as memorable and perfect as we could. And we were right, it was your last Christmas. You held on for so long, sixteen years. The first time I visited you in hospital, I was two years old.
Sixteen years is almost my whole life, and I'm so grateful you were here for it all, but I wish you had been able to hold on for longer. Just a few more months. You could have seen me turn eighteen, and graduate high school and get my results, and get my first ever job, and spend another Christmas together. You missed out on Matt and Skye's engagement, I know you would have been so happy for them. And you missed out on seeing Jess pregnant, even though you would disapprove at first, you would still love her and little TJ because you're so accepting. She finished her hairdressing course after no one though she would, and now she's fully qualified, and bought her own house and everything. You would be so proud of us all. Especially me, I hope. I did it all for you.
Please come back. We can't do it without you. Mum cries every day, she tries to rely on me to be the strong one but sometimes it gets too much. Everyone says I'm strong but I'm really not, it's just an act because I hate people seeing me cry. I've cried more this year than I have in my entire life.
Grandad misses you so much Nanna, he isn't coping. He drinks too much, he's starting to forget stuff and I'm scared. Mum and Aunty Karen are so worried about him and are always trying to make sure he's okay, they never have time for themselves. Jess and I were going to get them day spa gift vouchers for Christmas but we left it too late to organise. Maybe for Mother's Day.
Tonight, Grandad gave Jess and I one of your bracelets each. Mine is a gold one with a love heart lock and chain. It took all I had not to burst into tears in front of everyone right there and then.
I sometimes wonder if you were there at your funeral, somewhere in the back. I'm so sorry. Jess told me that I'd regret it if I didn't go and look at you, and mum gave me a choice. I chose to go and see you, but I ran out crying almost straight away. I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you for a bit longer, I'm sorry I didn't show my love enough, always.
Nanna I just want you here. You've missed so much, the biggest year of my life and you weren't here to cheer me on, to encourage me to do my best. I had to think of you to get me through studying. Everything I did, every word I wrote and read and remembered, all those exams and assignments and stressed tears, they were all for you because I knew you wouldn't want me to give up and I just wanted to make you proud. I just hope it was enough for you. I'm going to be a nurse, so I can help people like you. If I can save just one life, save one family, one teenage girl from so much grief, I'll be happy. It's all for you. I would've happily swapped places with you, if it meant you were still here. The suffering is over now, sleep safely. Wait for me, I promise I'll come and find you. I'll never forget you, never ever. You're such a big part of me. I miss you all the time, but it's times like these I miss you the most. I love you so much, always thinking of you. Keep watching down on us, god knows we could use your strength to keep us all from falling in a heap. Love you forever, Nanna.
With so much love always and always, Liana.

A Day With Delta

Okay so now that I've managed to stop shaking enough to write this properly... Here is my recount of the amazing day that is today :)

So I got into the city at like 11am and went straight to the Adelaide Convention Centre where Chelsea, Caitlyn, Naomi, Karissa and Tim were already (they got there at like 8). We were hanging outside in a walkway between a back entrance of the Convention Centre and the Intercontinental Hotel, which is where Delta was staying. We took a few photos of our group together, and some videos of us, mainly Chelsea and I, dancing around like losers to Sitting on Top of the World.

Just before 12, we were dancing around when Chelsea suddenly stopped and went "oh my god..." and I turned around and Delta was walking towards us around the corner. We squealed like the fangirls we are and she gave Chels and I a huge hug! Then she walked towards the door to go in and she got us to come with her.

Just before I had arrived earlier, the others had been kicked out the foyer of the Convention Centre by some bitchy security lady called Janis. Well when Delta was walking in, Janis tried to stop us, and Delta turned massively bitchy but cute, it was hilarious. She was like "no they're coming in with me" and Janis was like "uhh but..." and Delta interrupted and said "no, I'm telling you, they're coming with me." It was the funniest moment of my life. And then she put her hands on her hips and stared all the security down and said "I hope you're treating them well!" HAHAHAHAHA <3

So we waited in the foyer for like 10 minutes, trying to be really quiet. Until Chelsea lay back on the couch and hit her head on the GLASS coffee table. Really loudly. There was this massive loud bang and we all tried not to crack up laughing but were laughing silently and omg.

Then Janis came out and told us to follow her, and we walked underneath all the seats and around the back and in through another door into the auditorium. We sat on the far side near the back. They showed a video introduction for her which was heaps good. Then she came out and the presenter guy asked her some questions about her growing up and music and everything, then some of the kids got to ask questions. A few of them burst into tears and Delta jumped offstage and gave one girl in the front row who was crying a big hug, it was so cute.

At the end, someone asked her to sing a song, and she sang a bit of Knocked Out, which sounded absolutely amazing. Then she tried to get everyone to sing Born to Try, but no one really was. I would have sung louder except we weren't really supposed to be there so was trying to be inconspicuous lol.

We left as soon as she'd finished and walked around for a bit trying to work out where we were meant to go... Then we found the room next to the auditorium where Delta was signing CDs for the kids during their lunch break, and just waited off to the side. Near the end of the signing, she started rubbing her eye. Naomi was like "I think she has something in her eye..." then like two seconds later Delta turned to the lady and said "I have something in my eye." We laughed. Massive psychic/stalker moment right there but oh well hahaha!

So we waited for all the kids to disperse, which didn't actually happen, seeing as they mobbed her when she was leaving the room through the back door. We quickly ran out the room and around to the foyer and back outside to where we were in the morning so that we didn't miss her, and like one minute later the side door opened and she came out.

She took photos with all of us and signed some stuff. I showed her my scrapbook which I've kept since the Visualise Tour, and she flipped through it and told me it was amazing and then she signed the front of it for me. "To Liana, So much love & thanks 4 all your support over the years <3 Delta"

We all had a bit of a group chat with her, we talked about shoes, and the tour a little bit, and boyfriends and it was so much fun. The lady she was with (I think it's her manager...) kept trying to hurry her along but Delta stayed, she was happy to just take 'one more photo' or sign 'one more thing' (which of course turned into more than one!). Finally she actually really had to leave, and as she was walking away she looked back at us and waved and I was very nearly about to run over and give her another hug, but I stopped myself.

Chelsea and I grabbed each other and screamed and massively fangirled, and Delta could still hear us haha, she was probably like "wtf..." hahaha. Then Naomi, Tim, Karissa and I walked over to Rundle Mall, Naomi and I were fangirling the whole way :)

Today was the most amazing day, I wish I could go back and do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing!!!! Except for maybe sneakily recording her singing Knocked Out... Hahaha. But it was absolutely perfect, and it wouldn't have happened like it did if it wasn't for security kicking us out, and for Tim, Rachael and of course Delta being the amazing woman she is. Only Delta would do something like that for her fans <3 I love her so much :)

Like Mother, Like Daughter

The little girl, Tess, awoke at midnight. The cause of her sudden awakening was unknown, but she decided to get a glass of water before going back to sleep. Quietly, she padded barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen, filling a glass with water before carrying it back to her bedroom. As she passed the lounge room, however, muffled cries came from behind the closed door, barely audible underneath the volume of the television.

Shrugging it off, she returned to bed and fell asleep immediately, unaware of the situation occurring just two rooms away from her.

The next morning, Tess woke up and sleepily walked into the kitchen for breakfast, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Her mother was standing at the kitchen bench, and when she turned around, the little girl gasped in shock.

“Mummy, what happened to your face?!”

The older woman tried to smile gently, but it appeared as a grimace through her swollen lip and black eye. “Nothing you need to worry about, Tessie.”

Tess decided against protesting and sat down to eat her cereal, studying her mother intently as she moved around the room, wincing every so often and clutching her side.

The next night, Tess crept out of her room at the same time as the night before, determined to unveil the secret her mother seemed intent on keeping.

Pushing the door to the lounge room open slightly, she peered through the tiny crack, and instantly drew back in fear at the scene she was witnessing. Her mother, that strong, independent woman she had always looked up to, was curled up in a ball on the floor, sobbing as her husband repeatedly kicked her in the chest and ribs, can of beer in hand.

Tess watched in horror as her father bashed up her mother, sparing her no mercy. He finished the can of beer and threw it on the floor before heading towards the door, purposely stepping on the woman cowering at his feet, shooting her a glance of hatred. Tess jumped around the corner and flattened herself against the wall as her intoxicated father stumbled from the room towards the bedroom her parents shared.

Hearing a soft cry, Tess darted back into the lounge room, moving over to her mother’s limp body with tears in her eyes.

“Mum? What can I do?” she asked, pulling down her mother’s top, hiding the purple and black skin of her exposed stomach from sight.

“Go back to bed, Tess,” whimpered her mother. “There’s nothing you can do, it’s too late to do anything.”

Tess ignored her mother, helping the older woman off the floor and guiding her into her own bedroom, away from her violent father. Her mother was too tired and broken to protest. The two females curled up in Tess’s bed together, relishing each other’s warmth as they quietly sobbed in each other’s arms.

“I love you, Tessie. Thank you for saving me.”

“I love you too, mummy. Goodnight.”

Tess and her mother were awoken early next morning by an intoxicated father and husband flinging Tess’s bedroom door open. With a furious look on his face, he roughly pulled his wife from the bed.

“Make me breakfast, bitch!” he shouted, dragging the petrified woman down the hallway to the kitchen, with Tess running after them.

“Daddy, stop! You’re hurting her! STOP!” she cried, tugging on her father’s arm.

He turned around to face her, baring his teeth and snarling like an angry beast. “Let go of me, you little brat!” Her father, uncontrollable at this point, raised his hand to Tess, who stared back at him defiantly.

As he struck out, Tess’s mother stood up to shield her precious daughter, receiving the full brunt of her husband’s blow. She cried out, cupping her cheek, and the man standing before her (she did not know who this man was anymore, he was not the man she married fourteen years ago) smirked before turning around and going back to bed, satisfied.

Tess hugged her mother, tears flowing unchecked down both of their faces. They sat in silence for a few moments, Tess trying to control her tears and her mother thinking hard. She had taken her husband’s abuse with little complaint since it began a month earlier, when he began going out with friends after work more often and coming home drunk. She knew complaining to him would only make her a more vulnerable target, so she kept her mouth shut. But that morning had made her realise that she and her daughter were no longer safe in their own home.

“Pack a bag, Tessie,” said her mother suddenly. “We have to get out of here. I’m not putting you in danger anymore.”

Tess nodded shakily, taking her mother’s orders. She dressed and then began packing a bag with only the necessities: some spare clothes, underwear, pyjamas, toothbrush and her favourite stuffed toy, which she could not sleep without. Down the hall, her mother was doing the same thing. Before leaving the room, she emptied the contents of her jewellery box into another small bag, hiding it in the pocket of her handbag.

Tess was waiting for her mother by the door, and took her hand when they were side by side. Together, for the last time, they walked out the front door of the place they had called home for the last ten years, leaving behind them a lifetime of now worthless memories and the man they had once loved unconditionally.

Mother and daughter did not look back as they walked towards freedom, hand in hand.

In the master bedroom, an angry man stirred…

Fragile

She looked around the room, rotating three hundred and sixty degrees at snail’s pace, taking in every minute detail. The pale yellow walls, the pure white ceiling. The wallpaper with teddy bears and balloons running around all four walls: not at all unusual decorations for a nursery. Everything was pristine: the crisp paint work, the white cot, the change table packed with nappies, and the tallboy; tiny jumpsuits and miniature socks lovingly folded in the drawers. It looked perfect, and the woman’s whirling emotions were the only disturbance in the room.

Her gaze fell upon the rocking chair in the corner, the patchwork quilt her mother had made for her resting on the seat. Sinking into the chair, her lip began to tremble, and as she rocked, a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and made its way down her cheek, followed by another.

This room had looked the same for five years. The young woman and her husband had decorated it in anticipation of their first child when they realised she was pregnant five years earlier. They had been full of excitement. Slightly apprehensive and nervous, but ecstatic nonetheless, after two years of happy marriage they were about to embark on the next journey in their life: starting a family.

She had awoken in the middle of the night two months later to severe stomach cramps and a spreading puddle of blood surrounding her, staining the sheets crimson. She was devastated, but vowed to herself to not let the loss of this child end her family dreams.

That promise was compromised a year and a half later when she miscarried for a second time, four months into the pregnancy. She had worried that there was something wrong with her, and had began to give up hope, as did her husband. Night after night, she would cry herself to sleep, wishing with all her heart that she could have a baby, a beautiful little son or daughter, to hold in her arms. She wanted nothing more, and began taking steps to become pregnant again. She ate all the right foods, did not drink any alcohol and took daily vitamins, and, after another desolate year, she finally fell pregnant for the third time. She and her husband had held their breaths throughout that first trimester and by the time the end of the second trimester drew near, they finally accepted hope and allowed themselves to be excited for the impending birth of their first child: a daughter.

And now here she was, at the beginning of her final trimester of the pregnancy. Except she was no longer pregnant. At just twenty six weeks, she had gone into labour: fourteen weeks prematurely. She had been lying in a hospital bed after the long and painful delivery, hoping and praying her baby girl was all right, when the doctor entered the room, his face solemn and grave. He told her how her baby was born prematurely: she knew this. He told her how her daughter was currently on oxygen and in a limited-contact incubator in the neonatal intensive care unit, and would remain there for months to come. Some of the words he used she did not understand, but she didn’t need to: she knew what was happening.

Individual, disconnected words and phrases were drifting around her head as she remembered the doctor’s sombre speech: ‘fourteen weeks premature’, ‘incubated indefinitely’, ‘permanent oxygen’, ‘up to six months in intensive care’.

Six months. That was half a year of her daughter’s precious life, spent in a cage being poked, prodded and watched twenty four hours a day, having needles stuck into her, constantly fighting for her life on a daily basis.

For the next six months, she had to face the fact that the daughter she had craved for so many years would be dependent not on her, but on the doctors and nurses helping her to survive.

She had to live with the agonising thought that her daughter’s health could be compromised for the rest of her life, and the thought that was in the front of her mind was burning a hole in her brain and driving a knife through her heart.

This is all my fault.

Little Girl Lost

NOTE: This is based on a TRUE story, about the lives of my Grandma (Joyce) and my Nanna (Laura, who passed away about a month before I wrote this story).

Present

I sit, unmoving, in my chair. My eyes stare into space, not crying, not betraying any emotion. My heart feels as though it has stopped. Wishful thinking, maybe. I am numb.

Two hours ago, I received a phone call from my daughter-in-law. Not an unusual occurrence in itself. The words I heard, however, were words I had never directly heard before, and ones I wish never to hear again.

So this is what it feels like to lose your best friend.

November/December, 1951

My family was migrating from England to Australia. My father wanted to leave when the war started twelve years ago, but my mother fell pregnant with me and did not want to travel. I spent the first five years of my life in the midst of World War Two. Eleven years on, my father finally managed to scrape together enough money to secure a passage to Australia, working two jobs for the last five years.

I was running along one of the decks on the New Australia, playing chasey with a number of other children my age who I had befriended four days ago after setting sail. The taunts of “catch me if you can!” hit my ears from all directions as we teased the boy who was ‘it’. It was unbecoming for a young woman and I knew I would be in trouble if my parents caught me, but I was having too much fun to care. I looked back and squealed when I saw the boy who was ‘it’ pursuing me, gaining ground with every step. I wasn’t the fastest runner.

I saw his eyes widen and he called “watch out!” I looked back ahead of me, just in time to dodge a girl with long brown hair, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the deck, reading a book.

“Hey!” She glared at me as I passed her, a hair’s breadth away from tripping over her. I shrugged it off and kept running.

I didn’t see her again for a while.

Four weeks later, we were almost to Australia. I was wandering around by myself, trying to find someone to play with, when I came across a familiar looking girl who was crying.

“Are you all right?” I asked, putting my arm around her.

She sniffled, before answering, “My younger sister is missing. We can’t find her anywhere, my parents are scared she might have fallen overboard!”

“Oh dear,” I replied as my heart ached for the girl who looked about my age. “I’ll help you look for her if you want.”

“I’d like that, thank you.” She looked at me closely, scrutinizing me. “Hey, you’re the girl who nearly tripped over me a few weeks ago, aren’t you?”

I suddenly felt very embarrassed. “Oh, yes, I am. Sorry about that. My name is Joyce.”

“I’m Laura and I’m eleven years old. My sister is eight, her name is Sylvia. Please help me find her!”

I took Laura’s hand and we began to search every inch of the ship in earnest. We searched for four hours together, and were beginning to give up hope when we returned to her cabin, finding her parents scolding a very upset little girl.

“Sylvia! Where were you?” cried Laura, hugging her little sister.

Their mother answered in lieu of Sylvia. “She was found by a member of the crew in a male bathroom, in the shower with a young boy.”

Laura looked scandalised and berated her younger sister. I quietly left the cabin, sensing she did not need me anymore.

That was the last time I saw her on the ship. We disembarked a week later and I did not see her again for many, many years.

Present

Still, I sat in my chair, reminiscing about times spent with Laura, starting with the biggest coincidence of my life.

June, 1988

My eldest son, Daryl, came home with his girlfriend of eight years, Julie, in tow.

“Mum,” he began. “I asked Julie to marry me, and she said yes!” He smiled at his new fiancée and put his arm around her waist.

“Well, congratulations kids. I’m happy for you!” I replied sincerely, pulling them both to me for a hug.

“We told my parents just before we came here, and they invited you and Eric to dinner on Saturday night, so you can all meet for the first time,” added Julie.

“Wonderful, tell them we accept.”

Having never met, I was a bit nervous about this dinner with my future daughter-in-law’s parents. 

Little did I know that we would not be talking much about our children, but rather, our own childhoods.

My husband, Eric, knocked on the door at precisely seven o’clock on Saturday night. It was opened by Geoffrey, Julie’s father, who greeted us and showed us in. His wife greeted us next and when we shook hands, we looked into each other’s eyes, sensing familiarity. It was not until later that we fully realised who the other was, and we were both delighted to meet again and hopefully have a chance to rekindle our brief friendship.

Present

Since that day, twenty four years ago, we have been each other’s best friends and confidants, thanks to the union of our eldest children. We share two beautiful grandchildren.

Laura had been sick for the last sixteen years, with a rare type of cancer. Recently, all her organs began to fail and we all knew her time was near. I just never expected it to be so soon. She was seventy two years old, seven months older than me.

She was always the type that preferred books to running around. While I played tennis since my teenage years, she would often be seen with her nose in a book. The memory of when we first met is imprinted in my mind, that moment provides so many insights into both our characters. Funny, how such polar opposites can become best friends.

And now she’s gone.

I miss her already.

Short Stories

So I just decided that I'm going to start posting some of the short stories that I write. I have a fanfiction account and post on there but I can't post stories that I've written for English or just for myself that aren't about a musical or movie or whatever, because they're not fanfictions, they're just stories.
I'll post all the ones I've written so far on here, and if I ever get around to writing more I'll post them on here too. I like to get feedback on my stories from people who aren't my English teacher haha :)

To my DEAR parents (not).

Fuck you. Honestly, that's all I can say right now. You go on and on about how you are always here to help me and want to help me do my best and all this crap, then you turn around when for once I'm ACTUALLY studying and talk shit to me about how I'm wrong and you're always right. Well guess what, YOU'RE NOT FUCKING RIGHT. I may not be as smart as you think you are, but I'm not an idiot either, and I'm definitely NOT YOU. That means I don't have to study like you do, because it doesn't fucking work! Why can't you accept that and move on! I'm trying so hard right now, I'm struggling to get through this but I'm pushing myself, and you should be fucking happy about that, not just finding more things to yell at me for. You've said it so many fucking times and I heard you the very first time you said it, but I'm studying how I want to and you can just leave me alone. Or better yet, do the whole fucking thing for me, then you could do whatever the fuck you want. Not like I fucking give a shit anymore.
I am SICK and TIRED of you always being on my case, you never leave me alone and always think I'm doing it the wrong way. I'm an adult, I'm old enough to do it myself, the way I want to do it.
I'll fucking prove you wrong. I cannot wait to throw that piece of paper in your face.

My life according to Delta Goodrem

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. You can't use the band I used. Try not to repeat a song title. It's a lot harder than you think! Repost as "my life according to (band name)"

Pick your Artist: Delta Goodrem

Are you a male or female:
Woman

Describe yourself:
Mistaken Identity

How do you feel:
Nobody Listened

Describe where you currently live:
Right There Waiting

If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
Out of the Blue

Your favourite form of transportation:
Running Away

Your best friend is:
You Are My Rock

You and your best friends are:
Beautiful Madness

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
Here I Am

What is life to you:
Disorientated

Your relationship:
Take Me Home

Your fear:
Lost Without You

What is the best advice you have to give:
Be Strong

Thought for the Day:
Wish You Were Here

How I would like to die:
Right Here With You

My soul's present condition:
Uncovered

Heading In The Right Direction (Lucy Durack's new song) <3

Since I was a small girl I've always been alone, trying so hard to find someone that I could call my own. People that I look at were always twos and threes. Always on the outside, nobody wanted me.

Am I heading in the right direction for your loving and affection? Is this gonna be a brand new start? Is this the way into your heart? Oh darlin...

When you came along boy, you were different from the rest. Never tried to hurt me like so many men before. You made me feel important, something special in your eyes. Knowing that you care for me has made me come alive.

Am I heading in the right direction for your loving and affection? Is this gonna be a brand new start? Is this the way into your heart?

Day to day I hope and pray that this feeling is really gonna grow and I know...

Now that I'm a woman, now that you are here, change is all around me, gonna wipe away my tears. No more pain and heartache, no more sleepless nights. We're gonna stay together for the rest of our lives.

Am I heading in the right direction for your loving and affection? Is this gonna be a brand new start? Is this the way into your heart?
Am I heading in the right direction for your loving and affection? Is this gonna be a brand new start?