So many Junes and Julys I spent watching the paint dry on our brand new cream walls instead of going to play football with the other kids my age in the street. I sat and wondered why my shaking knees did not smile, why my bony fingers could not disguise their quirkiness under pretty blue eyes like all the other girls did.
And yet many paint coats later I now realise that these walls have not changed anything but their colour in the many years my parents have lived here. My parents, who spent so many years teaching me to be loyal and kind, not only to others but to myself.
I like to think that if the walls could talk, they would say:
It does not matter what colour you decide to dye your hair (or your walls), because those who really love you could not care less. We have seen you grow into the person you are today; stubborn, passionate and genuine, but we know that you may still need to borrow other peopleβs glasses to see it. The road to self love is difficult but know that you must love yourself before loving anybody else.
You may not believe it yet because you see others as the galaxies which you could never be, but we promise that you are the stars, and anyone who refuses to look through a telescope to see that does not deserve to see you shine. There are lakes and rivers waiting for you with open arms, and sunrises which will put on their best colours just for your eyes to see.
Your body is made of stardust, you are stronger than the trees you have grown to love, and though you may not be perfect you are enough.
i'm trying to teach myself that self love is the best love, even if it isn't easy. this is my first poem, I hope you like it x