Bun

Dear younger me,

I know you’re sad. I know you miss home. I know when you arrived in the U.S., you haven’t been smiling since.

You thought life would be different here. Maybe you thought you would make friends. I know you hurt. I know you cry a lot. It’s okay. I want you to remember this for me.

Listen carefully.

These new families you’re with, they might call you whatever name. They might even call you dirt or mud in this world. But I want you to remember — you’re not mud. You’re not dirt.

They might claim you are, but you are the most beautiful, wonderful, and clean.

Just because they see you with those eyes, just because they speak to you with those words, it doesn’t mean you become what they say.

Like a lotus in the mud, no matter how many bad things people said you were, you are always beautiful.

You are gorgeous.
You are pure.
You are still here.