“Whenever I get mad, I pretend that I am a goddess. I imagine this ethereal glow emanating from me and remind myself that as soon as I raise my voice, spit out cruel words or lash out, I would have to spend days regretting. Every bitterness that comes out of me makes another flower wilt.
The world around you can be so cruel. But you must stay soft.
So, with curled lashes, flushed cheeks and loose hair, I will live with the kind of velvety elegance that even roses would be jealous of.” (Rose Girl)
I admit, getting roses is kind of a cliché aesthetic decision but I did spent 2 years thinking and waiting for Marian to fly over to Canada from Australia.
Each rose represents a person that has hurt me in the most tremendous way thus far in my life. “Every bitterness that comes out of me makes another flower wilt… I will live with the kind of velvety elegance that even roses would be jealous of.” (Rose Girl)
The rose on my forearm is for her.
“the time I stumbled onto the porch from her push. I heard the lock turn and laughed the saddest love into the freezing air. ” (Breathless Visceral Impact)
and the rose on my panty line is for him
“washed onto the shore; you were my tidewrack. Thank you for offering such cruel delicacy with your indecency. I’ve rather enjoyed the bleak and desolate condolences while I grieve.” (Driftwood).
So yes, I am healing, I am mending. I am a fucking mess sometimes and I still break down at 3am in empty parking lots. But I have never allowed myself to become bitter.
I know with all that I am, I am living with the kind of elegance that roses are jealous of. And I will continue to do so regardless. Regardless.