Dear Julio Noboa, (disclaimer… read the poem before the letter. It’ll make a whole lot more sense)
When I was in 6th grade, shy and afraid of the giant world of middle school, I was flipping through my literature book and came across your poem, Identity. I was unfamiliar with poetry completely, but I was so compelled that I copied down the entire poem in my notebook. But after being caught up in middle school drama, I no longer wanted to identify with the tall, ugly weed. I didn’t care if I was picked up by “greedy human hands”. I’d be pretty and therefore wanted, right?
Wrong. Two years ago, I was looking through my old school things trying to decrease the clutter in my room, and again I discovered Identity. But this time, I felt something more profound, being that I lived through rejecting being a weed and didn’t enjoy it much. So I began to evaluate my life a bit differently.
Finally, I understood. Being wanted because of your outward appearance is like not being wanted at all, especially because those things can fade in an instant. But if you’re true to yourself and value who you are inside above all else, you’ll be just as beautiful, except you’ll be beautiful forever, not just for a fleeting fifteen seconds of fame.
So thank you, Mr. Noboa, for giving me such a simple sense of hope and for giving me the world of writing and reading poetry to help me get through my darkest days.
Regards,
Bri
