‘To bloom or not to bloom’

Humans are like flowers. If you neglect sunlight, soil and the right enviroment, it's hard to make use of opportunities and interests presented to you. Especially because you can't give the people closest to you your energy as your relationship grows. You can't absorb fulfilling rays of sunlight, instead you simply observe and see both withering and budding flowers.

Except myself, I'm more like bubbles on top of soda that constantly fizz out and in again when exposed to air. It feels like a tornado constantly whirling inside my head. Winds pick up sand, rocks, possibly even a small lizard, throwing everything into a melting pot of chaos. Like I'm working against myself, distancing step by step from those memories I once held close, vowing to never let go. Or was that a dream?

Everyday, I go and work relentless hours. If I stop my movement, It'll be harder to get back up, which is why I never break my stride unless it's for a good reason. And yet, now I've collapsed along the side of the wall, feeling helpless. My one rule, to never stop, has been broken.

Despite this emotional turmoil, I manage to scrape bits of energy within me. It's not enough. So, I wait, and I hear music ringing through my ears; faint but starting to near. It reminds me of those days, with the sour smells of lemonade being sold along the sidewalk, the pop of bacon on a frying pan in rays of morning sunshine, the breeze skimming along the curves of my face. It was a fresh POP, right in scope of view.

Lately, I feel like I'm constantly trying to escape a closed brick box. Cramped and trying to punch my way through, but not being able to make it. Knuckles getting scarred with pain and injury, my mind deteriorating; stuck in the unseen mists inside cloaks of darkness. Perhaps I'm getting so distraught that I won't remember a single thing once this vicious cycle ends. There's one thing I will remember, though: don't take things for granted.

It doesn't take long for me to realize that I've already bloomed; already experienced the perfect prime of life. Even though I'm so different compared to a flower, I yearn for the things that a flower seems to gain so easily. But I can't escape this box on my own, and I don't know anyone able to see me who has the power to help.

But just now, I smelt a scent through sound. It felt nostalgic, like my childhood. And the aftermath it had was incredible. But for me, for some reason the smallest things my parents do for me make me feel loved. I'm teleported to another realm, my eyes closing as I fall into a slumber, despite my aching back. Scenes of sun-filled days play on a grand black and white screen.

But even now it shows- fragments of my childhood being put back piece by piece to complete a magnificent puzzle. Fragments that once cowered inside the cracks now morphed into strong pieces, assembled to create a masterpiece.

My dad was always so thoughtful. "Ana, you forgot this, silly!" My Dad brought me glasses of water because he knows, I'll forget to drink water with my meal. He sat on the couch and changed stations from the heavy news headlines droning on all day to a comedy show we both love. Without saying a word, he picked up my plate and cleans up everything- including leftover food on the table.

My stepmom also did many things for me. "Ana, I missed you so much." She hugged me tightly, while mentioning that she read an article about how people need to hug for 20 seconds to get the benefits of a hug. Then she adds "another 4 seconds because she loves me so much" and slowly backed away. The next minute, she showed me some clothes from her closet she wanted to give me, because she thought I'd like them.

My mom did too. "Hahaha, Ana what does that even mean??" She'd react to my silly comments and engage with me, in loving banter. But at the same time, she always looked for my mistakes so she could teach me valuable life lessons and make sure I'll never forget them. In addition, she remembered things I said about my life that even I had forgotten. She (lovingly) shoved me out of the house so we can play pickleball(may i add, not an old person sport) together, or maybe even learn a new healthy, homemade recipe to make.

My stepdad did too. "Nice catch, Ana! Woah, look at that, we got so much loot!" He'll play shooting games on his console. Laser focused, he would always invite another pair of eyes to help. He'd navigate amongst debris, sneaking up on the NPC enemies. When I spot something, he'd react and listen to what I have to say. Sometimes, we'd get SO INTO the games that we'll high-five as if we won a championship game with a flawlessly executed grand slam. Other days, maybe annoyed that our teammate did that ONE thing that threw all our hard work off-track.

That wonderful energy, the feeling of running through fields of grassy plain-filled dandelions is powerful. And I feel it whenever I'm with my family, for the most part. Small actions that they do bring a gentle, lukewarm smile to my face. Happily looking dad's way, as he works on his computer a couple paces away from me on the couch. Watching my stepmom as she makes her (reaaaaaalllyyyy delicious) frittata in the morning, or other savory meals throughout the day. Funny glances towards mom as she dances and goofs around with me. Helping my stepdad play all and any of his games, as we somehow manage to pass many (incredibly) difficult levels.

Although these are small things, to me they stand out. And just now, it came rushing back, so fast that I remembered these bittersweet memories before I knew it. They hit me like a stike of lightning that brought my goal of remembering to fruition. What I thought was a curse, had turned into a blessing.

As I wake up, I realize that the box has been shattered into shards, and I feel a weight in my hand. Long and slim, with a heavy metal edge on one end. A hammer; I've been fighting back this entire time, unknowingly. My inner child has been unboxed; remembered and filling me with ideas. Not only that, but I've been restored and am now the better version of myself I ever thought I could be.

I open my eyes once more. The music has stopped. Dropped back into the middle of a bustling city, back into my life. The breeze that once tickled my face when I was younger has started to send the reddish-brown leaves off onto their own journeys of migration, drawing complex maps in the sky.

Maybe previously, my eyes were blinded; maybe it's NOW that I'm starting my journey. I still haven't reached my peak- and maybe I don't want to, maybe I want to keep growing and testing my limits. After years of growing, maybe it is now that I'm starting to bloom.

[ Thank you for reading this far. This is one of the few stories I've extracted from being entangled in the maze that is my mind. And, I hope there will be more to come. If you're willing, you can come along the ride too. :) ]