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What really matters? Inspired by true experience 95

I saw a little girl today and she looked at me with curious eyes. She is all that I was once and I am, probably all, she wants to be in future. Her carefree hair braided in two, Mine carefully tucked in a French knot, after I poured ‘ Because I am worth it’ on my crown. I wondered if I really need a bottle full of chemicals to validate my worth. Her lips chapped and dry, mineglazed inbrightest shade of red, ten minutes consumed to choose a perfect match. Her nails- shapeless, unwashed, ungroomed. Mine manicured and polished. She is unknown to the pain of hair wax and eyebrow pluck, I am immune to them. She wore a blue pinafore. Not bothered about other girls wearing it too. And I am drowning in the weight of my Gucci’s and Chanel’s, scared to spot someone, cladded in same clothes as mine. Her only accessary, her school bag. I chose my bling with taste and tact. Under pressure not to commit the fashion crime. We both glanced at each other, She smiled, a perfect smile, Glancing at the future standing in front of her.

 

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My heart screamed, I must tell her ‘It doesn’t matter!’ All these clothes, make up, rat race to look perfect. It doesn’t matter baby girl. What matters, is the exquisite spark you carry in your eyes. No mascara magic wand can ever replicate it. Promise me, you will keep your ‘raw’ untouched, no matter what ‘growing up’ brings to you. Promise me, the child in you will rule your heart, even when you are fixing your…

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