Lilies

Oct 10, 2021

They say the extraordinarily attractive daylily flower blooms early in the morning, only to wither and die the following night. That means if you expect that beauty to last, you’re in for a big disappointment. A lot of things in life follow that metaphor. People choose romantic partners, food, music, and even what they desire or aspire to be based on how attractive they are in the moment. 

When I was a kid, I sat in school listening to everyone else, my peers, talking and laughing all around me. I often wouldn’t be able to make out what they were saying if there were too many conversations going on at once or if they were too far away. They’d gossip and tell each other stories at a thousand miles a minute, or at least, that’s what I assumed. 

What do cool kids talk about? About how their cool uncle knows just about everybody who’s anybody and is getting them a modeling job. About how John pours his heart out in his texts to Eliana, and it’s weirding her out. About how they get DMs from people wanting them to buy dragon dildos. About how they aren’t allowed to text a lot so they talk a lot to each other in person versus that other couple who text a lot but barely say two words when they’re sitting next to each other. About how their ass looks flat in the jeans they’re wearing.

They just express themselves. Freely, without encumbrance or meditation. 

For what? At the end of the day do they feel closer, more connected? And if they say they feel more connected, is that really the case, or is it just another illusion to be shattered later when their friends decide to leave or betray them? 

I think what made me so upset was having the desire to understand that whole world, yet not being able to. The world of happy people. The way forward for now then, will be to try to create what I think they had, and then adjust. Make some friends of my own and have my own conversations. Maybe that’ll turn out to be the daylily, something I thought I wanted, but upon inspection is something that won’t last.

I’ve made friends. I’ve got some great friends now, I care about each and every one of them a lot. But, if these friendships end, does that make them any less important or worthwhile, even if they only last a short time? Ashley was only a part of my life for a fraction of a moment, yet she’s had such a tremendous impact to the person I’ve become. Maybe the length a friendship isn’t counted as how long you’re with a friend, but how long they remain in your heart. In that sense, the flower of her friendship is still alive. 

Maybe that’s why I’m having such a hard time connecting with people. I’ve experienced connections that are hard to come by, and I’ve been spoiled. My best friendships all started with a common thread or interest at the core of them, whether that’s a love of board games, selective mutism, or food. The sparks that have just flickered and died on the spot are all the ones where passions didn’t align. I can’t get interested because I don’t have much in common with a majority of people. 

Even in regards to romantic interests, not to sound repetitive, but I just can’t seem to be interested. Nell set the bar. Siobhan set up another bar next to hers. They were both the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s not even that, though. Nobody’s ever made me feel they way they did. Arguably, I did that to myself with the incessant fantasizing. But, when I talked to Siobhan, she made me feel like there was maybe another person like me in the world. Somebody different and pure. Somebody sensitive and caring, smart and unflinching, quietly fierce yet with a gentle touch. Every one of her movements and breaths –  a work of art, dancing on a symphony of Carmel macchiatos and pumpkin spice lattes (triple mixed metaphor!!). 

Most want to be a daylily. Some have been a daylily and are already withering. Many search for daylily flowers, hoping their picked beauty will last in their hands. 

I think that’s what I was trying to say in my last entry. I am a peace lily. I know not as many people are looking for me, but if I can manage to find another peace lily, something magical may happen… something both magical and ordinary. I’ve intuitively been searching for people like me. I can see them across the fields, in the shadows cast by the height of the taller plants. The problem is, from so far away, they don’t see me. I must grow, so that one day they can.


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