You gaze upon yourself in the water, and sigh. To you, you are a mere observer
In your own world, your reflection is tainted blue. Like the sky- almost invisible.
In a world full of flourish, full of life and colour. Amongst the chaos of wind, of life, and the chimes and stomping of death, you see a plastic flower and gleam.
Why? Why does this attract you so? You are surrounded by a garden teeming and brimming with energy, and yet... You cast your eyes to this. You see yourself in this perfect "lifeform", curated to be just like how you want it to.
How naïve. You call yourself a realist, quoting next days of the next phases of the moon without batting an eyelid. Yet you wish to demean yourself to the status of something to feeble. Yes, immortality and curated living has its beauty- but you will never live up to such standards. You are living, after all.
God, please stop chasing after the afterimage of a perfect life. Just settle. I beg you. You are trampling on the vibrancy of your own home, just to be one step closer to the plastic flowers you admire. Just stop it. I hate to see you like this.
