Jan 2016
i. i wonder if the stars fight over who's the brightest.
the night sky is a canvas, covered in a million strokes. each shining star in this endless sky holds its own beauty in the masterpiece above us, thousands of miles away. without a single star, the constellations would not be the same shape. without a single star, the sky would not shine as bright.
dear, you are a star. you and i, we fit in this universe, shining brightly for all to see. even though we flicker at times, even though our light may become covered by clouds, we are still bright. we still add our own light to the night sky. without us, there would be no masterpiece. without us, the world would not be as bright.
ii. i wonder if birds mimic melodies to harmonize with others.
not every song must be a duet - a solo love song can be riveting, can be like an orchestra of sounds all encased in one single lover. the songbird can sing symphonies on its own, every note echoing throughout the forest finding its way into each animal's heart. music they whistle with honest notes are the songs that make a lover's heart soar.
dear, you are a songbird; you are a dove. every note you make with your voice is a song; every string of words you say are a poem. your song deserves to be heard, so make your voice louder, higher, stronger. do not hide behind the voice of others, for you are worth being heard.
iii. i wonder if roses grow thorns for a reason.*
they say every rose has its thorn, but they forget to mention that roses don't ask to be touched. the thorns are its warning message: it will harm you if you grab it. it is as if they're building a weapon, rewriting their genetic code to avoid being bothered. a sign to tell us to not hurt beautiful things, for they are armed with knives and sharp thorns.
dear, you can't expect people to just admire your beauty. a dog can understand no, but boys are worse than a dogs. if you keep acting like a daisy, you will keep getting your roots torn out from the ground, and boys will rip off your petals to try to find out what's inside of you. arm yourself, my love. roses need thorns to survive.
“dear, you are a star, you are a bird, you are a rose,” i tell her. “but most importantly, you are you, and you are important.”
the night sky is a canvas, covered in a million strokes. each shining star in this endless sky holds its own beauty in the masterpiece above us, thousands of miles away. without a single star, the constellations would not be the same shape. without a single star, the sky would not shine as bright.
dear, you are a star. you and i, we fit in this universe, shining brightly for all to see. even though we flicker at times, even though our light may become covered by clouds, we are still bright. we still add our own light to the night sky. without us, there would be no masterpiece. without us, the world would not be as bright.
ii. i wonder if birds mimic melodies to harmonize with others.
not every song must be a duet - a solo love song can be riveting, can be like an orchestra of sounds all encased in one single lover. the songbird can sing symphonies on its own, every note echoing throughout the forest finding its way into each animal's heart. music they whistle with honest notes are the songs that make a lover's heart soar.
dear, you are a songbird; you are a dove. every note you make with your voice is a song; every string of words you say are a poem. your song deserves to be heard, so make your voice louder, higher, stronger. do not hide behind the voice of others, for you are worth being heard.
iii. i wonder if roses grow thorns for a reason.*
they say every rose has its thorn, but they forget to mention that roses don't ask to be touched. the thorns are its warning message: it will harm you if you grab it. it is as if they're building a weapon, rewriting their genetic code to avoid being bothered. a sign to tell us to not hurt beautiful things, for they are armed with knives and sharp thorns.
dear, you can't expect people to just admire your beauty. a dog can understand no, but boys are worse than a dogs. if you keep acting like a daisy, you will keep getting your roots torn out from the ground, and boys will rip off your petals to try to find out what's inside of you. arm yourself, my love. roses need thorns to survive.
“dear, you are a star, you are a bird, you are a rose,” i tell her. “but most importantly, you are you, and you are important.”
