To the 14 year old me

Dear 14 year old self,

  1. Do not try to escape the awkward teenage phase i.e. no makeup, no hair straighter, no curler. Stay ugly. Be humble.
  2. Having a hobby is way more important than looking pretty.
  3. It is okay to not have mongolian features.
  4. You are already very good in public speaking. Speak up when given a chance. If you have a mic in your hand and people in front of you “Speak” but please don’t begin with quotes. Like ew no quotes please!
  5. If you have cellulite, you should run, squat or play a sport; do not “not eat”.
  6. If you don’t like someone, have the balls to not like them. You don’t have to post a picture calling people your friend, sister, godmother or whatever!
  7. Do not listen to your teachers when they say “you need to improve your studies and behavior”. You are a very sincere straight A student.  के भन्न खोज्नु भएको सर?
  8. Always remember, if people call you “pretty” when they meet you they are saying it because you have a shitty personality.
  9. Boys will not like you. Deal with it.
  10. Use sunscreen.
  11. Stay home with your grandparents on February 9, 2012.
  12. Watch beauty pageants. You will win the national pageant in 2015.

Yours,

22 year old self.

 

 

 

 

A letter to my love.

Dear Love,

It is ok that you picked her over me. Who wouldn’t pick a rose over a wildflower?

A rose is beautiful. Poets, philosopher and lovers are hooked over its magnificence. Even gods stare at it. The scent is celebrated and the color is worshiped.

But darling despite the beauty, you crush the rose when you pluck it. A rose hurts you with her thorns. Rose is vulnerable. Rose is dependent. Rose craves attention. Rose craves love. It is withered by storms and the wind carries it away unlike the ungroomed wildflower.

The messy wildflower stands still. Patient, strong and unwithered .It blossoms, spreads and grows without any attention. No man can crush it, and it will hurt no man. A wildflower is undemanding, independent and unbothered.

But I get it you picked her over me. Who wouldn’t pick a rose over a wildflower?

Yours,

Wildflower.