Jul 2019
She stood there in that luscious green meadow staring at the colorfully painted Hyacinths. She remembered how her mother grew them in her garden and took such precise care of them. Once the Hyacinths were in full bloom, her mother took a pair of scissors and gently cut the steam making sure not to damage the flower. The part that astonished her wasn’t the beautiful aroma of the flowers, or the marvelous colors that would captivate you, it was how her mother always left one flower in the garden making sure never to cut it. You may be wondering why? Why not extract all the flowers? Her mother always left one flower to ensure that these beautiful hyacinths would grow back the next year. This way, her mother could experience their beauty annually.
But she resented these flowers. She stood there in the alluring meadow thinking of how perfect these flowers are. How their bright green stems hold the top-heavy flower. How they were so resilient to spring back from the ground every year no matter the hardships they faced. And how everyone was so drawn to their bright, vibrant colors. She hated this. She hated how these flowers placed an unbearable standard of perfection. She knew in the real world, no one supports you like the stem supports its vibrant colored flowers. That in the real world everyone only cares to focus on what they can see about a person and not the layers and layers of personality that’s embedded in a person. And that in the real world, people don’t stand back up on their own two feet up once they have fallen.
This little five year old girl stood in that luscious green meadow thinking about how these flowers place unreachable expectations on it’s viewers. She gently reached her hand down to the wet earth to pluck one flower from the bed of soil it was standing in. She violently tore the elegant flower open. She peeked her head inside it’s stem and flower buds only to see… nothing. This little girl with bright blue eyes then realized that she was mistaken. That these beautifully colored flowers have the interior… of a human.
But she resented these flowers. She stood there in the alluring meadow thinking of how perfect these flowers are. How their bright green stems hold the top-heavy flower. How they were so resilient to spring back from the ground every year no matter the hardships they faced. And how everyone was so drawn to their bright, vibrant colors. She hated this. She hated how these flowers placed an unbearable standard of perfection. She knew in the real world, no one supports you like the stem supports its vibrant colored flowers. That in the real world everyone only cares to focus on what they can see about a person and not the layers and layers of personality that’s embedded in a person. And that in the real world, people don’t stand back up on their own two feet up once they have fallen.
This little five year old girl stood in that luscious green meadow thinking about how these flowers place unreachable expectations on it’s viewers. She gently reached her hand down to the wet earth to pluck one flower from the bed of soil it was standing in. She violently tore the elegant flower open. She peeked her head inside it’s stem and flower buds only to see… nothing. This little girl with bright blue eyes then realized that she was mistaken. That these beautifully colored flowers have the interior… of a human.
