B O R E D O M

what flower will i be?

When a loved one passes, we are told that we become flowers when we die. Tulips, roses, daisies, lillies. The list goes on with the various kinds.

A field blooming bright in spring, the sun beaming down brightening our lives. A watercolour of azure washes over the sky.

Lives filled with lessons on handling our emotions. Hide your pain, fake your smiles, may the guilt of your mistakes stain your heart. Love to lose, lose to love. The world is a contradiction, believe what you will.

Misery is like a river, streaming down everyone's path. Jealousy is a slithering sage snake wrapping it body around yours so you suffocate. Pain is a gift, a valuable lesson, a pleasurable feeling.

As Ophelia walks down the streets of New York, she looks at all there is to life. Happiness is the strangest of them all. In order to get it you must be patient, in order to receive it you must give it, in order to get it you must deserve it. There is no happiness without sadness. Afterall, twins don't like being separated.

Ophelia takes small and slow steps, preparing herself for what's to come.

Everyone has an expiry date. Isn't it strange? One day we're here, the next...

She overlooks the city. From this height it's beautiful and peaceful. She steps onto the ledge, her left foot first then her right. Her body sways as a giggle erupts from her. Adrenaline and freedom coursing through her veins. Ebony coils dancing in the air, the moonlight kissing her dark skin.

Courage burns through her chest as her body falls.

She smiles.

The last thought on her mind: I wonder what flower I'll be.