the flower of the sun.

 You never bought me flowers.

Not even when I asked you to.

And every time I pinned a boutonnière to your left pocket,

You took it off.

You told me it bothered you.

And I would nod

And say "okay."

But it wasn't okay.

Because I love flowers more than I love most things.

My favorite memory is of me standing in a field filled with sunflowers that were taller than me,

I was wearing a white dress, my feet were bare

And in that moment I decided that sunflowers are my favorite flower.

I've always wanted to remind people of the sun,

Something that is bright,

Something that is yellow,

Something that is happy.

But I think I might remind people of something a little less bright,

Maybe a bluebell,

Mellow,

Quiet,

A little less happy,

A little less noticeable than a sunflower.

And that's okay.

You never bought me flowers.

Not once.

And I've been thinking that maybe that's why you're gone now. 

Because even though I may not be the sun,

Even though I may not be bubbly,

Or yellow,

Or bright,

I'm still a flower. 

And flowers deserve to be given flowers,

A bouquet of flowers,

With a ribbon tied around the stems,

A bow connecting a dozen sunflowers,

That's all I ever wanted. 

You're all I ever wanted.

But I've been thinking that maybe it's time for me to pick my own flowers,

Tall, beautiful sunflowers.

Yellow, big, bright. 

And when I look at them they will remind me that maybe someday I can be the sun.

To remind me that maybe someday someone will buy me a bouquet of flowers,

With a ribbon tied around the stems in a bow.

I hope he will know that I love sunflowers.

I hope he will look at me like I am a sunflower,

I hope I will remind him of a sunflower,

Even though I might be more like a bluebell.

 

nearly broken. -- I want us all to be okay.

I went on a trip with my parents a few weeks ago. 

My mom almost didn't come,

They were fighting,

Of course.

I flew with my dad alone and right before we got on the plane she called him and he yelled words to her that I wish I didn't have to hear.

On the plane he asked me who I'd rather live with.

I didn't respond.

I've been asked that question a hundred times and I've never responded.

So we sat by each other silently and landed in Florida.

 My back was sweaty and it wasn't from the humidity,

My back was sweaty from the thought of

"Love doesn't exist."

"Love is fake."

"It's not real"

"It's not real"

My mom decided to fly there on a separate plane, 

She didn't want me to spend the week listening to my dad call clients and listening  to him fight with her on the phone,

So she came,

Her plane landed at 2 am and she slept with me in the hotel bed that night. 

My dad was in the bed next next to mine but my mom chose to sleep with me

She held onto me like I was him,

At 17 it's a hard concept to grasp that your mom would rather lay next to you than your own father and her own husband.

They pretended like they weren't mad at each other that whole week,

So I could have fun.

They texted each other from across the room so they wouldn't have to yell,

To "protect me"

It didn't make me have more fun,

It didn't protect me,

At age 7 I started praying to God that they wouldn't finally love each other,

And I still don't know if they do,

I've never known.

I'm ok,

But nights like last night makes my back sweat from the thought of 

"Love isn't real."

"It doesn't exist"

And that's scary.

But I'm ok,

And I think I'm ok because the microwave in my kitchen from their wedding still works.

It opens like an oven, it's hideous, brown 

 and ancient.

But it still works. 

So I think that's why I'm ok,

I think that's why I've always been ok,

Because in my mind that microwave from their wedding means something,

Means something like even though it's old and falling apart,

It still holds on,

Just like they hold on.

some days I want a new microwave,

Because it cooks way too slow,

Just like some days I want them to leave each other, because I think I'd be happier,

But then I think about the microwave and how I've had it my whole life and how I know I'd miss it,

Even though it's Nearly broken 

And then I think about them and how I know I'd miss them too,

Even though they are nearly broken.

Because nearly broken things still work,

That's what counts.

But once that microwave breaks I don't know what I'll do. 

So I'll pray that day isn't for a while because I don't know if I'll be ok then.

The microwave that my parents got on their wedding day broke last week.

32 years. 

32 years.

My parents have always had a rocky relationship. 

But that microwave was always steady.

That microwave always worked.

It always held on.

The light burnt out years ago,

But the heat waves kept on burning.

The fire was strong.

That microwave gave me hope. 

It gave me hope that nearly broken things still work

But now I'm not so sure.

My best friends boyfriend cheated on her.

He lied to her face for months.

And I don't know.

I don't think I'm okay. 

I don't know when I'll believe in love. 

It's a sad thing,

To not believe in love anymore.

My eyes are always dry 

And my smiles are usually forced

And I guess I just want to be happy.

I want the microwave to work again,

To burn again.

But it shut off,

At a time when I needed hope the most.

I guess I need something to believe in.

Whether it's a microwave or a god or a person.

I just need something to believe in,

Something to show me that it's all going to be okay. 

 

Something to show me that thanksgivings aren't always screams that lead to slammed doors and 4 kids sleeping in a car just to feel safe.

Something to show me that Christmas Day is happy,

A day with no fighting,

And no tension.

Something to show me that this life really is happy.

That this life is beautiful.

Becuase right now I feel numb.

And I just want to feel something.

I just want to be okay.

I want her to be okay.

I want us all to be okay.