Mom, please wake up, Dad's with a s.lut and your son is smoking cannabis no one ever listens this wallpaper glistens don't let them see w h a t g o e s d o w n i n t h e k i t c h e n. — Melanie Martinez, Dollhouse
You compare me to a flower. But the thing about flowers is that we uproot them for our own pleasures. Pull them from their own wants, their own needs. We take them from where they’re grounded, where they’re safe, where they have grown and made a life for themselves and place them in a pot on a shelf. We take them and destroy them for our own selfish desires. Call them beautiful. But that’s not love. And I’m not a flower. I will not be taken from where I am, where I want to be, to decorate the sill of your bedroom window. I will not be labeled as ‘pretty’ in the last days before my leaves shrivel, before my petals fall, before my life runs out and you find someone else to use as decoration. Love me, you say. You want to uproot me. You want to change me. But I won’t let you. Your love is just like the flower you want me to become. Something that looks pretty, for the time it lasts. Something to adorn your life, to make it beautiful. But kills me in the process. And I won't be destroyed. — Marisa Donnelly
my heart slows down in summer. It beats thick and heavy, not quite ready to pick up its pace for someone else. Still hesitant for love. I twist blades of grass between my fingertips, rub sand and dirt between my toes slowly, in rhythm with each beat. At night I watch the fireflies flicker, calling attention to themselves, to one another. I wonder if that’s how they find love— a festival of dance, of color, of boldness. Sometimes I get lost in my own mind. I imagine my hand in someone else’s, tracing back through towns, wandering barefoot on beaches, creating this beautiful life I’ve always imagined for myself. But together, now, with someone else. Sometimes I sit quietly and listen to summer crickets singing out their melodies, or the birds, with their incessant chatter, searching for one whose song blends well with theirs. It seems like the whole world is searching for love. And I just want my heart to feel full on its own. When it’s right, it’ll happen. I’ve heard those words slip from my own lips. I’ve heard my mother whisper them, a look of nostalgia spread across her quiet face. Love is a silly thing. Even sillier if you try to chase it. This is what I remind myself as I listen to my heartbeat. Calm. Steady. Content.
I don’t know, I don’t want to talk as much…It’s nicer to think, dear, pretty thoughts and keep them in one’s heart, like treasures. I don’t like to have them laughed at or wondered over. Image is from weheartit, photographer unknown.
1. Give yourself space. Away from the things that are making you unhappy. Stressing you out. Making your head spin. Create distance. Clear your head. Don't surround yourself with negativity. It will only create more negativity.