the magnolias are blooming and I’m inclined to write. the air smells so sweet when I walk home a few miles a day to sit My worries in the soles of My feet. I don’t know if I’m maturing or if I’m falling in love with indifference. but either way, it feels so incredible. there’s something so kind in fleeting passion from something one wants to love. for instance, I want to love you but it’s quite draining. suddenly I’ve decided loving you isn’t worth the hassle. not to be mistaken for lack of empathy or callousness. those things hold negativity, and this feeling is the essence of equilibrium. this feeling is like walking on two feet, stopping to smell the magnolias, and touching the leaves, the thick green leaves and white matte-like petals. it’s rhythmic. it makes you notice the little beauties in life, it makes you speak kindly to the homeless men, it makes you notice kittens stuck in trees, chickens crossing the road, cliche shit. the magnolias in particular make Me think of My wedding. in My dress that My mother told me not to wear, and the shoes she hated most. but I loved the white satin texture and the fact that they didn’t show my toes. I walked down the aisle all alone, since I forgot to tell him I was getting married. I always forget to tell him all the important things. ofen it feels worthless to tell since it will never be enough. The venue wouldn’t be to his liking nor would the flowers or the food. His least favorite would perhaps be the bride or groom waiting for Me at the end. But still, clutching a bouquet of magnolias, staring at the near-empty church pews as I would walk, smiling. And I continue to walk down a dirty tree-root-cracked street with a single magnolia in My hand. I picked it Myself.
