Universe of Soulmates

"If I Were A Rose"

If I were a rose,
My petals wouldn't be perfect,
My thorns would be sharp,
And my roots buried deep.

If I may explain, I'd like to start at the beginning. Not at the exact beginning—because who remembers their own birth?—but early in my childhood. The first memory I have stored is from when I remember my parents showing me the wonderful world of television, and the stories captured on a moving screen. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't love musical theatre or acting like I do today. Just seeing Barney and Sesame Street play on the TV with their fun, energetic personalities was enrapturing to little two-year-old me. Teletubbies, for whatever reason, was not something I enjoyed as a little kid and always drove me nuts. Maybe it's because it was the same thing over and over again, but I don't remember much from back then to say for sure that's what it was.

As I grew from a TV-obsessed toddler to a musical child, my TV show interests ventured away from kiddie shows to any singing competition show airing. From America's Got Talent (that wasn't all singing, but there was quite a lot of it) to American Idol to The Voice, I couldn't get enough of the singing world and all that came with it. Outside of singing competition shows, I was super artistic and could fill a page with doodles no one but my five-year-old self could decipher. Honestly, I don't think I could decipher them now, but I could back then.

My two main interests for the next three years were singing shows and drawing, taking up most of my brain power outside of school—not that school took a lot of brain power outside of math class. That is, until I (completely by accident) flipped to a gardening show, and realized how cool it was to grow plants and create magical places for people to get lost in.

From there, I begged my mother to let me start growing flowers, nurturing them with the help of dozens of books and videos online. My first plant I ever took care of was a succulent. Full disclaimer, I didn't know at the time that they were the hardest plants to kill, but I was still grateful I got to take care of my very first plant. My second plant was a bit more work, but not by much. It was a lavender plant, and the reason the smell still soothes me to this day. My mother was proud of ten-year-old me for growing (and not killing) two different plants, and finally let me use a section of the lawn to grow whatever I wanted. Our city, being closer to the equator than the 45th parallel, had only two seasons: hot summer and cold summer. We got plenty of rain, just not a lot of other seasons.

I have to admit, I still haven't seen snow to this day.

Back to the story, now.

On the other hand, school was a bit more of a struggle than gardening for me. As one of the minority in my school, I constantly got teased for my long, dark hair and overly-tan skin because it was different. Sure, there were policies against bullying, but the teachers always interpreted the snarky remarks as compliments. Just an FYI, Mrs. Holdemann, kids calling me "brown skin" was anything but a compliment. Not only that, but I never really felt like I belonged in my own body. Something about the X chromosomes my body was forced to have made it feel wrong, but I didn't know any better at ten or eleven, when I started having those feelings.

For years, I hid the feeling that my body wasn't my own—almost feeling like an imposter in a body I've had since birth—and the only thing that felt right in my life was gardening. Bringing something to life always felt right. And, I still watched those singing shows, but I usually listened to them while soil dug itself under my fingernails for hours.

☙♡❧

If I were a rose,
My beauty would awe,
My danger instill fear,
And my presence overtake all else.