i feel like i'm holding a flower. one that i don't want to tear. one that is too beautiful to hold up to the wind, in fear of the peddling away. i don't want to hurt people. i don't want to be the catalyst for a series of incandescent days, only illuminated by a false hope of light. i want to be the light. i want to be the true, change. [that which is] different. 'tis true that we live in a world with false promises. people do it every day. i'd like to consider myself distant from that category, apart from the norm. i can only share my words in hopes of reality, in hopes the very words i speak won't be taken lightly, nor without belief. it's impossible to live perfectly, without blemish. yet, through these mere scars of human imperfections, something beautiful arises. perhaps something like a flower.
i shall pick.
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