Pixie Alannah-Wilde
Stories (1/0)
Dear 35-Year-Old Me
I hope you’re happy. Finally, after years and years of talking down to yourself, not thinking you’re deserving of love, or interaction or even a kind word from others—to think you’re not worth the attention of someone who clearly thinks you are—finally, I hope you’re happy. I hope you’ve listened to the people who told you were kind, and who told you that you made them smile, or that they continued doing something because you believed in them. I hope you still believe in people; I hope that after all the bad experiences you’ve had with the wrong people, it hasn’t clouded the fact that the world is full to the brim of lovely, lonely, vibrant and amazing people—and you love making a connection with them. And, to a lesser degree, I hope you’ve realised that when people told you that you were attractive, pretty, beautiful, etc., you don’t have to explain to them why you’re not. You’re not up your own arse for accepting kindness. Yeah, life’s not about being a piece of art, or attracting others, or people fancying you—but it’s not about berating your appearance either. Sometimes, it’s okay to feel good about yourself, and sometimes it’s okay to spend money on looking good. I hope you realise how lucky you are that you had the body you had (and put no effort into). And I hope one day you look at pictures of yourself and realise that you were beautiful.
By Pixie Alannah-Wilde7 years ago in Humans