Vibrant Yellow Flower

Little Yellow Flower

~
Everyday, I walk past the same trees, in the same park, on my way home from school. Everyday I see the same faces ~ Susan with her three little ones who are always begging for something; Monday is was lemonade, Tuesday it was ice cream, and Wednesday it was candy. Marcus practicing basketball with his "friends" simply for the sake of needing a scholarship for school. Candy, taking laps...staying in shape. And the list goes on.
The thing is, today was different. Fall started about two weeks ago, but today showed the first signs of change...and the change was drastic. It was cold, too cold for the army green Cashmere sweater I was wearing; too cold for the little ones to complain, too cold too practice no matter how important that scholarship is, too cold to stay in shape, too cold to do anything really; explaining the absence of warm bodies in the park. But there I was, in the park.
Something told me to sit down for a bit, and despite the goosebumps forming all over my skin I did. I waddled over to the nearest park bench and sat down just as the wind decided to pick up. The whooshing sound of the wind dancing through the branches sent chills down my spine, but the site of the leaves gracefully fluttering to the ground calmed every one of my senses.
The world was grey today...the world was grey everyday. There was an absence of something more the warm bodies, there was an absence of reason to be.
       Sure, I've never felt any type of importance in my life before, but there was always the hope of being great, becoming something...someone.
       Up until today I had the hope of being able to one day lay down in bed and smile, wish for tomorrow, be content with who I was and what I was doing with life.
       As I was sitting on that park bench I took in my surroundings. The lone swing, gently swaying in the breeze, the leaves forming little tornadoes on the pavement, the sun meekly peeking out from behind the clouds. That was when I saw it, the little yellow flower; the sun had seemed to form a spotlight in the very spot it stood, growing out of a small crack in the sidewalk.
Still despite the wind, vibrant despite the grey-ness of the surrounding world, living despite its conditions. That little yellow flower have more will then that of most human, far more will then me.
In that moment I stood from the bench, and continued walking. Out of the park, down the block, to my home. The whole way there, nothing but that little yellow flower on my mind. I didn't know why, but this was the right moment.
       This was the moment that I had been thinking about more and more frequently for months now; the moment that I wouldn't be able to reverse for the life of me. In this moment I don't care if I go to hell, I don't care what impact I hold on you, I don't care. The only thing that matters to me now, is that yellow flower growing through the crack of the sidewalk...it matters because that fragile little flower had more will to live then I ever did. It had more will to survive then I had to wake up every morning. It had more will to be the vibrant yellow flower that will change my life forever then I have to even write this note.
I'm not going to say goodbye, I never favored goodbyes; I would be extremely ignorant of me to say goodbye anyway, I doubt that whoever is reading this right now thinks this is even close to "good" in any sense. But this is...this is good for me, I can be done. Done trying so hard to satisfy my expectations of life, done crying myself to sleep, done living in a shell that wouldn't amount to anything.
Simply done.
Please don't mourn me, don't cry, don't say beautiful words on my behalf. I wasn't and never will be anything as beautiful that flower.
Yours Truly,
The Dead Girl Under the Covers
~
A single tear fell from your eye as you place the letter back on the desk where you found it, staining the paper. You turn to the lump on the bed, your tears becoming more violent. Your hands shake as you walk over to her.
There she was. Hair sloppily spread across the pillow, lips blue, empty Zoloft pill bottle in hand.
You leave, you can't bare too stay, too look at that face...she was wrong, she was beautiful, more beautiful then she could ever believe. Too bad you never told her.
You find yourself at the park after aimlessly walking; she was right it was cold, cold for you even with your heavy winter coat on. Everything was just as she described it, cold, lonely, sad, grey; there was even the little yellow flower...right next to it a little blue flower, next to that a red flower began to sprout, then a green, a orange, a purple; all before you eyes.
You close your eyes and shake your head a few times, you swear you are seeing things. When you finally re-open your eyes, every crack in the park is sprouting flowers, each a beautiful vibrant color. Each still despite the wind, vibrant despite the grey-ness of the surrounding world, living despite its conditions...just as she said. I was beautiful, it was beyond beautiful, it left you speechless.
The wind stops, the cold running up the arms of you coat suddenly disappears, as if called, people file into the park jaws dropped in awe of the site before them. You don't know how, but this was her doing, she had made this possible.
You cry, not sure if caused by sadness or amazement, but you cry, not caring who watches.