Thursday, September 17, 2015

Best of Hello Kuo

I want to start with a thank you. I can’t remember a time when you weren’t right by my side, so I can barely fathom leaving some of you behind—“some” meaning that I can’t cling onto you forever, but that I will always hold you and your life lessons near my heart. Over the years, you gave me the confidence I need to express my individuality and taught me how to love myself. You constantly brighten my mood, erasing my frown to make space for happiness. Trust me when I say I will never let go of the enlightenment you’ve given me.

I also need to tell you that I’m sorry. Hopefully, you aren’t upset with me. Hopefully you understand that this decision lies beyond my control, that this has to be done, and that some elements of life, like our separation, are inevitable. I know it seems like I’m abandoning you, and it kills me to think that you might feel this way. Just please know that if I had the choice, all of you would be coming with me. But after seeing the dorms, I can’t deny that there simply isn’t enough space for all of you.

So to the clothes I must leave behind, farewell.

People often mistake the relationship between a girl and her clothes as superficial. They see the motivation as shallow; the growth, nonexistent. The girl only wishes to look pretty and the clothes merely change with the trends. This thinking is surface-level. It fails to appreciate the clothes’ influence over the girl and the girl’s interpretation of the clothes. Blair Waldorf once said, “Fashion is the most powerful art there is... It shows the world who we are and who we want to be.” As my concept of self-identity clarifies, my personal style becomes more distinct. My closet is a collection that I’ve carefully crafted over the past few years. A collection in which each piece represents a different part of me. My knee socks embody my quirk. My sneakers personify my strength. My dresses depict my femininity. My t-shirts portray my creativity. Each piece has something to say, and every outfit tells a different story.

I associate outfits with memories. I wore my favorite purple t-shirt, the one with the little surfer girl on it, on my last day with my best friend before she moved to Japan in the second grade. On my first day of high school, I wore a pink Banana Republic tank top, a black lace skirt from Forever 21, purple sneakers that I bought in the seventh grade, and two bracelets: a silver Tiffany one that my aunt gave me and a rubber one from Knott’s Berry Farm that I bought to match with my best friends from middle school.

There was a headband that I wore to every speech and debate competition, from my first Cypress Invitational to my last CHSSA State Final. Right after my last competition, it snapped. I was heartbroken. Though it seems stupid to other people, this headband symbolized my speech and debate career, something that I loved and dedicated myself to. For it to break really solidified the end of that era of my life.

Clearly, I attach a lot of sentimental value to my clothes.

Leaving some of my clothes behind means not only leaving the past behind, but part of myself. That I cannot bring everything single thing with me is blaringly symbolic of how we as people must let go in order to move forward. Think about it. If I brought all of my clothes with me and stuffed my closet to the brim, there would be no room for development. It would be nearly impossible for me to grow because all of my resources would be dedicated to clinging onto the past. In life, like in fashion, we must forsake some things in order to allow space for maturity and improvement.

I know this is difficult now, but I have faith that all of this is for the better. Our relationship is undergoing renovation, not termination. Though the outcome is vague and mysterious, I genuinely believe that we will come out of this stronger than ever.

I guess that means this isn’t really a goodbye. It’s more like the beginning of something wonderful.


P.S. I decided to post this today because I'm moving into the dorms in a few hours!

P.P.S. This is only like 50% serious. I wrote this for a class assignment and had to present it, and because I'm (a) not funny and (b) a poor actor, people thought I was totally serious. It was embarrassing but whatever, high school is over--it's time to move on.

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