I want to be new Duriba.
Now, new Duriba isn’t the seventeen year old Beyonce reincarnation. Hair charcoal locks, like mine, are often disheveled. She too, tries to balance a pencil on her nose in an empty room. But she’s...different.
She wears her retainer every night, and wipes the toilet flush handle clean before and after every use, just because it’s the nice thing to do. She holds doors and buys strangers coffee. She forgives, but she never forgets. She paints with her little brother, and takes time out of every day to listen to a podcast and tell her parents she loves them. She loves learning new things...even calculus.
She gets the job done, and she prioritizes. She would never deliberately leave anyone out or cheat her way through a feat. Not only can she climb mountains, she can move mountains. She volunteers every weekend and buy her friends and family presents...because she just felt like it. She laughs loudly, and doesn’t spend more than 15 minutes a day looking herself in the mirror. Not because she’s unattractive, but because she couldn’t be bothered about a zit on her left cheek...she’s got a world to shake.
New Duriba isn’t just compassionate and sanguine though. She’s happy. And she takes that energy with her in her Marc Jacobs crossbody bag. She’s on the hunt for adventure and the thought of wind blowing through her hair sets her heart on fire. She wants to be the best humanitarian/feminist/muslim/human being she plausibly can. She wants nothing but to make a dent in the universe.