Can you edit this story for me please? thanks.

(no copDear Diary, Journal Entry #

How are you? I’m finally happy to be writing to you after a long time. I’ve just been so busy in the school! My Miss is strict but at least I learn from her. I remember Nani’s words: “The only way to find success is to learn.”
Today I find that true fir Saima took me to her work place and now I have a job! I save my earnings for Akbar sahib though he has told me not to. I’ll never be able to give him enough for what he did for me and Nani. Was all that happened just a terrifying nightmare?

-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦

On a beautiful and sunny morning my mother Fatima died giving birth to me. Because of that people thought I was cursed and refused to take care of me. My own father left his first-born and the only person willing to take care of me was my Nani, or my mother’s mother.
She took me home and promised to treat me like her own daughter. I was named Humerah after her late sister.
At first it was very tough for Nani. She wasn’t used to taking care of a baby, especially not one that cried constantly of hunger. Nani was in her fifties, not too old, but her back problems restricted her from working to support us.
Once in a month I got milk but my main drink was water because it was free from the well. And with time, I understood our situation though it was at a young age, maybe four or five. That’s why I never asked Nani for food unless it was when she gave it to me herself, which was once a day. Though it was hard for me, I always realized it was harder for her because she sometimes sacrificed her own food for me.
One day I asked Nani why and she smiled. “Growing girls need to eat.” She never said the truth which was that she couldn’t see her grand-daughter starving.

I will send more later. this is just the beginning.

If you are trying to copy and paste, it didn't work.

Before you repost, though, be sure to use the ideas in these webpages to edit/proof your own work as much as possible.

http://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/561/01/

http://www.unc.edu/depts/wcweb/handouts/proofread.html

http://grammar.ccc.commnet.edu/grammar/composition/editing.htm

thanks

Dear Diary, Journal Entry #

How are you? I’m finally happy to be writing to you after a long time. I’ve been so busy at school! My teacher is strict, but at least I learn from her. I remember Nani’s words: "The only way to find success is to learn."

Today, I found that to be true when Saima took me to her workplace and now I have a job! I've been saving my earnings for Akbar Sahib, although he has told me not to. I'll never be able to give him enough for what he did for me and Nani. Sometimes, I wonder if everything that happened was just a terrifying nightmare.

-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦

On a beautiful and sunny morning, my mother Fatima died giving birth to me. Because of that, people thought I was cursed and refused to take care of me. My own father abandoned his first-born, and the only person willing to take care of me was my Nani, my mother’s mother.

She took me home and promised to treat me like her own daughter. I was named Humerah after her late sister. At first, it was very tough for Nani. She wasn’t used to taking care of a baby, especially not one that cried constantly out of hunger. Nani was in her fifties, not too old, but her back problems restricted her from working to support us.

I would receive milk once a month, but my main drink was water because it was free from the well. With time, I understood our situation, even at a young age, maybe four or five. That's why I never asked Nani for food unless she gave it to me herself, which was once a day. Though it was hard for me, I always realized it was harder for her because she sometimes sacrificed her own food for me.

One day, I asked Nani why, and she smiled. "Growing girls need to eat." She never said the truth, which was that she couldn't bear to see her granddaughter starving.

I will send more later. This is just the beginning.