Dear baby Julitha,
You’re 14 years old and you’re about to run away from home.. and never come back. This is me, Julitha here.. We’re going to be 24 on the 29th of this month. A whole decade later. You’re only 14 years old. A baby. I can see you with your faded skinny jeans on. I can see the grey singlet and the checkered blue buttoned up top. The black ballet flats that you’ll take off because they’re slowing you down. I can feel the icy cold concrete on the ground. The the cutting coldness of the air. Like putting your face into a freezer and taking in a deep breath.
Run baby girl. Run.
I know you’re scared.. I know the adrenaline has kicked in and you’re so full of hope, so naive. But do it. You’ll only have the clothes in your back. Run. You’ll never see your brothers and sisters again. Run. You won’t see your dog again. Run. They will never touch you again. RUN. They will never yell at you again. RUN. They will never starve you again. RUN. Run as fast as you can and never go back. This decision you’re about to make will change your life forever. It will be the best decision we ever make.
You’re going to be homeless for a while, you’ll go into Foster care, you’ll go into some very dangerous Government Houses.. but you’ll meet you’re best friend King D. You guys will go to dance practice together and wear matching outfits.. but you will tip a hole in the back of your pants directly at your ass..just saying. You’ll both go to the club together in colour coordinated outfits and you’ll have ashy ankles. She still brings this up. You’ll like this neighbourhood and you’ll fit in. You’ll but a move, still some cigarettes, yell ‘kiss my ass!’ To a very racist teacher, you’ll miss getting stabbed by an inch, you’ll be called the N-word by some dumb girls at a party.. You’ll learn that The Wicked Witch of the West was also Adopted and at the end of the day you’ll listen to Barack Obama and Martin Luther Kin freedom speeches to get to sleep. You’ll tell everyone to listen to Nina Simone and Diana Ross and they’ll all shrug. All in all you’ll be fine.
Julitha the world has given you so much hate. You were born in the War. You were put up for adoption and then adopted by evil people who did evil things to you. But Julitha..look at me? Look at what we’ve done. 10 years later. A whole decade look at where we are. We’re at peace, we have overflowing love and we have strong Aboriginal Powers. Look at out skin, look at our smile, our soul is glowing. We did that to ourselves. We created the environment we visioned in our dreams.
Don’t be scared. I know you feel alone but you’re not. You do make out alive. There are times we thought those evil people would kill us. But they didn’t. They didn’t. We didn’t kill us.
Julitha this is the best part. Now we get to start over and relax. Have a bubble bath and a cup of tea. Travel the world now. Get that apartment with the art work and vinyl player. Have good passionate sex! Drink! Laugh! Yell and scream. Read a book. Write a book. Breath in the fresh air like you did 10 years ago when you never looked back.
Our truth is alive because WE are alive.
I am your protector.
I am your sisters keeper. I am the mother I never had and the brother who checks all the boys I’m dating. I am the father that drives me to my Formal. I am the cousins that come over for Christmas. I am the grandparents I sing with. I am the Aunty and uncle that spoil us. I am the child that no one protected. I am the only living DNA of my tree. I will find them. I will find you.
I am.. WE are free. It was all worth it. I promise.
They will never stop us. 1529.
Love Juditha Chrishandani.
About the Creator
Julitha
I like to write short stories and poetry.
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“He Kept Going When No One Was Watching — And That Changed Everything”
No one ever noticed the days he almost gave up. There were no messages asking if he was okay. No one wondered why he became quieter. No one asked how much effort it took just to keep going. To the world, he was just another ordinary man. His name was Ayaan. Ayaan’s life didn’t collapse in one dramatic moment. It slowly faded. Missed opportunities. Rejected ideas. Silent disappointments. Every failure was small, but together they became heavy. He had dreams once. Big ones. Dreams that kept him awake at night, imagining a future where his hard work would finally matter. But over time, those dreams began to feel unrealistic—almost embarrassing. People around him seemed to move forward effortlessly. They celebrated promotions, achievements, and milestones. Ayaan watched from the side, smiling politely while feeling invisible. At work, his efforts were ignored. Among friends, his voice faded. At home, expectations weighed heavily on him. Slowly, a dangerous thought settled into his mind: “Maybe I’m not good enough.” That thought followed him everywhere. It followed him on crowded buses. It followed him into sleepless nights. It followed him every time he tried again and failed. One night, after scrolling through endless success stories online, Ayaan closed his phone and stared at the dark ceiling. His chest felt tight, not because of pain—but because of exhaustion. He whispered quietly, “How long do I keep trying?” There was no answer. But that night, Ayaan made a decision—not a loud one, not a confident one. A tired decision. He decided to keep going, even if nothing changed. The next morning felt the same. The same routine. The same doubts. The same fear of wasting his life. But Ayaan showed up anyway. He worked when no one praised him. He studied when no one guided him. He practiced when no one believed in him. Some days, motivation disappeared completely. On those days, discipline took over. He reminded himself: “I don’t need applause. I need progress.” Weeks passed. Nothing dramatic happened. No sudden success. No recognition. No miracle. But something subtle began to shift. Ayaan became calmer under pressure. He learned to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. He stopped comparing his journey to others. The silence that once scared him now became his training ground. Months later, a serious problem appeared at his workplace. It was complicated, risky, and easy to blame on someone else. Most people avoided it. Some pretended it wasn’t their responsibility. Ayaan didn’t announce himself. He didn’t seek attention. He simply started working. Late nights. Mistakes. Corrections. Learning. There were moments he wanted to quit. Moments when fear whispered, “You’re not ready.” But he answered back, “I’ll learn.” Slowly, the problem began to disappear. Not perfectly—but steadily. People noticed, quietly. One afternoon, his manager called him into the office. Ayaan expected criticism. Instead, he heard a question that stunned him: “Where did you learn all this?” Ayaan paused. How could he explain years of silent effort? How could he explain working when no one cared? He simply replied, “I kept going.” That moment didn’t change his life overnight. He didn’t become famous. He didn’t suddenly become successful. But it changed something far more important. His belief in himself. For the first time, Ayaan understood that life doesn’t always reward effort immediately. Sometimes, it watches. It watches who continues without praise. Who improves without recognition. Who grows in silence. Years later, Ayaan looked back at the version of himself who almost quit. The man who felt invisible. The man who thought no one was watching. And he smiled. Because he finally understood the truth: Life was always watching. Not to judge. Not to rush. But to see if he would keep going when it was hardest. The world doesn’t reward those who only work when they’re seen. It rewards those who build strength in silence. And sometimes, the moment that changes everything doesn’t come with applause. It comes quietly. After patience. After effort. After consistency. That is when everything finally begins to change. Final Message Keep going—even when no one is watching. Especially then.
By Inayat khan7 days ago in Motivation
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