The first word of the day is someone who lacks enthusiasm and interest (LACKADAISICAL). Living takes effort, and dreams are for the lazy, so she’s probably a daydreamer. But there is nothing daisies can’t solve. The other word describes something that after being pressed returns to its original shape (SPRING). Just imagine daisies bouncing back after winter snows, even though we have left the snow out of this tale.
Once upon a time there was a little girl that had lost all interest in her surroundings. Her best friend was convinced that daisies were to blame because they had yet to sprout, and she was sure that the little girl missed them too much.
The best friend went to a flower shop and bought all the daisies she could afford. She began to make a daisy chain to remind the little girl of their friendship. When she was done, she picked up all the leftover daisies and planted them in the field where they became friends all those years ago.
The next day, the best friend grabbed the little girl’s hand and dragged her to that field. It was there, surrounded by reminders of their friendship, that she gave the little girl the bracelet she had made for her.
But the little girl didn’t magically recover her enthusiasm, she didn’t take the bracelet. Without making eye contact, the little girl told her that she dreamt about daisies. Daisies that had springs instead of stems. Daisies-in-the-box, that popped up to surprise her and fill her with wonder. The little girl told her best friend that after seeing those daisies, the real ones would never capture her interest. Not anymore.
Don’t make me laugh. Why would I waste a dream reliving my day all over again? That flower is dead and buried, and I have no intention of handing my brain to a zombie on a platter. I want to be surprised, not bored to death. Once was enough, thank you very much. I would liken my ideal dream to a jack-in-the-box, but that would spoil the surprise, don’t you think?
Apathetic? Who, me? Surely you jest. No? You want me to speak from the heart? Fine. I wanted a jack-in-the-box, something that would make my heart skip a beat. But all I got were parents that had already planned my whole life and a gift. Not a passion, just a natural talent. Would you call that a dream? All I have ever wanted is to fall in love. Emphasis on fall. I can’t dream if I don’t fall asleep. But I am still wide awake. That’s what my face is telling you.
This may come as a disappointment to you, but I prefer nightmares. A cold river down my spine and a scream swimming upstream. Waking up like a jack-in-the-box. My heart beating at twice the speed, making its presence known. With dreams, I usually can’t tell whether I am awake or still asleep. Dreams make me feel like a koala buried in leaves. And I would rather feel alive.
You don’t see the connection? Let me spell it out for you. Dreams are my happy place; I don’t feel like a pig in mud anywhere else. Everyday life doesn’t tickle me pink. Mud dries in the sun. It’s an unforgiving onslaught. Crack after crack after crack. The sun is out of the box. It jumps at the chance to break your heart. But I only have myself to blame. I am the one that keeps expecting happiness.
Flowers are lovely, but I wasn’t born in the wild. I even missed my chance to play on asphalt. All I have ever known are childproof playgrounds and soft-impact rubber floorings. Flowers with dangling price tags trying too hard to pass for leaves. Sometimes I wonder what a tailor-made friendship would look like. No longer being told to play nice. Just being myself. Safe in the knowledge that no flower of mine will ever wilt. Because those friendships are there to be outgrown.
Flowers wilt. They rot. But not away. There’s a sickly-sweet smell in the air. Memories linger. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because as soon as I cross over to adulthood, indifference will greet me. It will shake my hand. But I have no interest in transactional friendships. Scratching backs. Keeping score. Where’s the fun in that? No, thank you. I will make the most of my flowers while I still can. One day I will have to learn their language if I want to survive in the real world. But that’s still a ways away.
I have been told that I have a sunny disposition. Truth be told, I am good at watering friendships. I do it without thinking, but I am not an oblivious child anymore. Lately, flowers have been popping up in my mind. The same question over and over again, like a persistent, twinkling star. I’m afraid to voice the answer, but it’s out of my hands. Theories have to be tested, that’s the kind of heart I have. One-sidedly keeping a friendship alive takes a heavy toll. But splitting the cost this late in the game won’t cut it anymore. Goodbye sun. Goodbye rain. This is me outgrowing you.
I have no problem understanding math, but friendship escapes me. What’s the point of exchanging daisy chains? Flowers are short-lived. That looks like a jinx to me, but what do I know? I have dreams. Something I need to accomplish at any cost. I use people, and I am not ashamed of it. Who knows, maybe it’s because I have never used the word friend.