We were like a perfect daisy. Bright, loving, cheerful looking. But that’s all it was. Because when the world started playing “I will, I won’t,” with our petals, our daisy became poor and desolate, something that we all feel bad about, but our repulsion towards it outweighs our sympathy, and we sweep it under the rug rather than try to help it. Because after all the petals are gone, what is it worth?


As if to make it worse, winter rolled around. The cold set in our hearts, like the permafrost on the tundra’s plant roots. And suddenly, it’s hard to think, to work, to even function, because we are so preoccupied with trying to prevent the inevitable. The cold spell is only going to get worse, and odds are, we aren’t going to survive this one. So why am I trying so hard?

Sometimes, there is nothing you can do to change your fate. The flowers know this. When fall approaches, they prepare themselves for the howls of the wind. They gather what’s left of them and ready themselves for the shooting rain and hail.

Then winter comes. The grounds freeze, their roots shiver, their leaves shake. They hunker down with what’s left of their dignity after shedding their lovely petals and accept their fate. And so I will do this. We obviously weren’t meant for each other, and I’m not going to try if fate hasn’t intended us for each other. Yet somehow, I hate this feeling inside of me, this pounding reminder of what I’ve lost as the cold sets in. I can’t help but wonder if a flower feels about the same.

This is the lesson of love, so valiantly taught be our vibrant flowers. They’ve learned this lesson; So why can’t we?