In the Garden

Like any other morning, I woke up today, talked with Jonn over the IM, went in the shower and readied myself for the day. What clothes to wear, what shoes to wear, not really caring about my hair because it does it's own thing anyway, eye-liner or no eye-liner...menial things that have predictably become mundane.

I wish I could be a flower...at any stage in it's life a flower can be considered beautiful, or at the least, pretty. Holding the seed in your hand, you know what is to come out of it. You may not see it yet, it will take time, but soon...soon a bud will spring forth...that seed holds so much promise; it is the hope of things to come. And even when it becomes a round bud and the flower is curled up inside, waiting to push its beauty out, to thrust itself forward in one glorious motion, even then it is beautiful. I suppose more than anything that the hope is what makes the flower so enjoyable, even when it is not much to look at. Because there is that hope of a new bloom, a pretty little flower. And once the flower has peeked it's tiny head out from under its hiding place, there is no stopping it...there is no stopping you from waiting anxiously, anxiously until all of it is revealed. And then it happens...you wake up one day to a full flower, its new life shimmering in the sun, petals as soft as silk and as smooth as rain...and there is no denying that this is life...it is not materialistic, we are not machines created by chance...not even that flower is created by chance...look at the beauty. How can you escape it? Its fragrance is soothing yet bold. "I am here," the flower says. In every way it can it announces its arrival...

But so humbly it does...it comes without grandeur, without the eyes of nature scrutinizing its growth...the flower is not royalty, it is just there...being beautiful...being what is was created to be.

I want to be a flower. I want to not be watched by the world and being told that my purple petals are not satisfactory in a red petal world. Don't tell me what I lack...I already know. I just want to be...I want to be. I want to be beautiful. But not by your standards...I know those are impossible to reach.

I keep reminding myself that I am not in a competition...I can't look any different than what I am without denying myself the basic privilege of just being me. I don't want to look like you, world, I don't want to have to change myself to make you happy...to trick you into thinking that I am one of you, that I am the beauty queen next door.

I am a flower.
Maybe not a rose.
Maybe not a lily.
Maybe a daisy.
Yes.
A daisy suits me...maybe that is why I've always loved daisies...