TW: brief, extremely vague mentions of wanting to commit s**cide, mentions of mental health issues
_________
"every flower has a story," the kindly witch whispers to me, brushing my hair from my eyes. "what's yours?"
"my story?" i whisper back, careful not to wake the sleeping blossoms surrounding us. "one too burdensome to tell."
hereupon the kindly witch shakes her head in dismay. "no, no, my child," she says softly, her wrinkled features hardly visible in the fading twilight. "no story is too burdensome to tell." she gestures to the flowers resting throughout the garden. "do you see your sisters? every one of them came to me needing healing. you deserve to heal just as they are, darling."
i drop my eyes, only to see the shadowy outlines of my human hands resting atop my lap. my human hands, a minor-key medley of tiny fresh wounds, those still healing, and the tiny scars that represent struggles of the past. all that is stopping me from transforming to my flower state to heal is my own reluctance to be vulnerable.
a deep-rooted reluctance, built over the years of capturing my feelings and never allowing them to breathe. in doing so, i suffocated myself as well as let the moldy emotions festers.
"please go on, dear," urges the kindly witch when i pause my inner monologue to collect my thoughts. "you're doing very well."
i hadn't even realized i had begun to speak. slowly i continue.
as a child, the worst that could hurt me were the most minor things. and as a result nothing seemed the matter with me. until i grew older and shouldered more responsibilities.
or tried to shoulder. the more life dealt me, the lower my mental state drooped. until at last, under the weight of a crippling phobia and equally painful symptoms of a mental disorder nobody was likely to believe i could have, i caved to the overwhelming desire to let myself fall, ready to let myself wither away until the earth did its work and allowed me to decompose, thus completing the circle of life.
"but now you're here, dearie," the kindly witch says to me, "and you've taken the first step to healing. one must return to the state of her childlike soul to allow herself to heal."
a teardrop splashes my lips. surprised at the fact that i let my guard down enough to cry, i nearly miss the fact that the tear is not salty.
in fact, this tear is not even human.
"sleep, my dear," urges the kindly witch, guiding me to an empty flowerbed. "may you wake more lighthearted with the morning sunlight, my sunflower."
her words continue as though i were dreaming. i probably was dreaming, or so i thought, from what she says next.
"for when the final morning comes and your healing is complete, you will grace the outside world again. not in your human form, but as an eternal sunflower, bringing a reminder of sunshine both physical and internal to those who need it most."
a sunflower. perhaps that's why i always loved the large yellow flowers.
perhaps i loved them because they represented what my soul embodies deep down.
