The Flowers That Bee

For the longest time I was kind of depressed because I don't have anything about me that would wring a total stranger's heart in pity. For that matter, there isn't anything about me that would wring my own friends' hearts in pity, if they even have hearts at all. Something truly tragic in my life would make me feel better about myself because it would make other people seem like they care about me. And there's really no difference between someone who cares for me and someone who seems to care for me when it comes to how their sympathy affects my self-esteem. So even if they really don't sympathize, the point in time they act like they do, my self-esteem goes up and various glands in my body release chemicals that make me happy. And that, Martha Stewart, is a good thing.

My tragic troubles I shall relate to you presently, and then I'll have a score of people who seem to care for me in their pity and my self-esteem will be through the roof and I'll get to say that it's through the roof. My whole life has been spent in paved hell. Even when I lived in a tropical state in a country halfway around the world (only halfway because the whole way round the world would be back here, duh) there was pavement everywhere because my grandparents live town or a city or something. I'm too busy puking to really notice. The water doesn't really agree with me. Actually, my other grandparents actually do live somewhere that's almost semi-country but they're retired teachers so there aren't any cows or anything authentically natural like that. Or any flowers in the wild that I noticed. But like I said, I was busy puking.

This so-called paved hell my life is being spent in is so bad because I've never, ever been exposed to flowers in their natural beautiful form Of course my mom has a couple rose bushes and those "bulbs". I'm scared of bulbs. They grow back, and they're scary. They want to take over the world, and they'll succeed one day. You don't have to water them or anything after you plant them the first year; they just keep coming back year after year. They're like one of those evil people in those cartoons that grow back their limbs even after the good guys shoot them off, and the little kids stare at the screen thinking, oh no, now what are they going to do... ok well... at least I used to do that. I guess little kids now are smarter than I ever was.

Anyway, those flowers are GROWN, not just there. Things that are grown are not as special as things that just exist. Look at yourself for example. You think you're pretty special, don't you? Would you think you were so great if you were grown in a plot of earth with 29 other little yous, if the only reason you are as big and beautiful as you are is because some lazy 41 year old woman poured Miracle Gro all over you so she could pretend in front of her friends that she has a green thumb? I certainly wouldn't think you're as unique as you are now. In much the same way, all the cultivated tulips in the world wouldn't equal one gorgeous wild rose. At least they wouldn't in my mind because I think tulips are kind of tacky looking. The only reason they keep growing them is because little boys like buying them for their dates. They can say, look, here are tulips for you, and I hope that you like my tulips, and maybe sometime later, my two lips can touch your two lips, and then they get slapped. So you see, grown flowers are BAD news. That poor little boy, all he wanted to do was make that cruel little girl happy.

The problem is that I don't know any flowers that aren't grown by someone, whether it's my mom or a tulip farmer in that country they grow tulips. Not really. I mean, sure, there are those flowers that grow outside the beds in my backyard in the grass, but like my mom says, those are weeds. The yellow ones, and the pink ones, and tiny little purple ones: they are all weeds. Where have all the non-weed wildflowers gone? It is not fair at all. I guess it's just another injustice to drive home the realization that I was born into civilization and will die there. You know how God is supposed to be the Father (with a CAPITAL "F") and how Nature is the Mother? According to pretty much every religion (and I don't really have anything else to go on) we'll all see God after we die. He's detached, not here right now. He's impressive, but you aren't going to go climb into his lap and cry about your boyfriend dumping you, or failing the math test. Nature though, she's always there for you. I'm not saying this is what moms and dads are like, just what THE mother and THE father are like. At least for me... but isn't that what is most important? So anyway, Nature's pretty comforting, even if you have allergies. She's here, she's tangible. You can go out and hug her if you wanted, or spit on her. Anything to make you happy.

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