the flower that blooms three years later, but only lasts for a day

I’ve bottled up everything I feel until I’m gasping for breath, wondering which of these emotions is playing tricks on me. I hope to find the answer, wanting to share my story without invoking pity. I yearn to divulge all the efforts I’ve poured into crafting a life that feels more like a burdensome task.

I don’t have enough reasons to keep living, yet not enough reasons to embrace the end. My life consists of merely surviving each day, then repeating the cycle. It’s all shades of gray, no glimpses of light, only shadows.

Now, it’s your turn to ask: do I deserve love? Do I merit all the affection you shower upon me without the weight of obligation? I’m afraid I might end up breaking you; I feel too fragile to handle it.

Will you accept me, reminding me every day that I am worthy of love? Will you? The last time I tried, love left me battered. Love can be painful, and understanding, a tiresome ordeal.

I don’t want to understand anymore; I want to be selfish. Am I wrong?

I’m a puzzle no one dares to solve. If I choose to love you, perhaps for the last time in my life, as I feel I’m nearing my breaking point, will you accept me? I can’t even find the first piece of my puzzle, unsure which fragment to start with. Should I give it a shot? To love someone, maybe for the final time?