The Desert Flower

“Then there are those who plant. They endure storms and all the many vicissitudes of the seasons, and they rarely rest. But unlike a building, a garden never stops growing. And while it requires the gardeners constant attention, it also allows life for the gardener to be a great adventure. Gardeners always recognize each other, because they know that in the history of each plant lies the growth of the whole world.”

- Paul Coelho from Brida

This one is for me.

The sun is beginning to set in the Arizona Desert, and the colors of the sky are reflecting the colors of my heart. A burning orange, a faint yellow, and a fiery pink, fuses together with a delicate purple, and it fades off into all sorts of shades of blue, until it eventually becomes a dark, midnight black sky. It would be almost as if the sky had stripped the blanket off of the world, to reveal it’s disguise. And now, deep into the golden Desert, beyond all the mesquite trees, and past the ocotillo, near the marigold field, standing right next to a shrub, and guarded by a tall saguaro cactus, bending down to watch over it, there lies an intricate little Desert flower. This flower, rooted deep into the ground, has stood the test of time, and has relied on many things to keep it alive, but so far nothing has worked to save the little flower from dying. The Moon has kept it company at night, but sometimes went away, and left it, all alone. The sun gave it life during the days, but sometimes even the vital things in life, can begin to burn you. Not everyday is sunny out in the Desert, but there are long periods of agonizing droughts, that almost smother the little flower to death. The little flower does not wish to die, but there have been times, where life was unforgiving to it. Petals have fallen off, and the flower has lost it’s joyous pigment. The sky is now witnessing, the remaining minutes of it’s persisting life. Animals, now begin to gather around the little flower, as it fades and falls into the ground. Mother Nature is reclaiming, what once was her’s. She has her own plans for later, but the little flower doesn’t know it yet.

When the sun sets, and the moon comes out from behind the mountains, I could spend all night admiring her glow, as she watches over me. I spend many nights, looking up, admiring her luminescent beauty. My mom had a similar glow, just like the Moon. I remember my mom in a very specific way. I remember how beautiful her soft hair was, and how sweet and comforting her scent was, and how big and bright her smile was, every time she’d laugh when she made a joke. I remember how loving her hugs were, and how safe I’d feel when she would hold me, cuddled up in her computer chair that squeaked every time she rocked back and forth. That’s probably where I got her nickname, Squeaky, from. I remember how much I loved her pillow, when she was gone, because it always had her scent lingering behind. If you looked into a puddle at night, and saw the moon, similar to, if you looked into the mirror in your bathroom, you’d see a resemblance of pure beauty. I’ve forgotten what my mom’s voice sounded like, or what she was actually like in person, and how she did things. But I will always be reminded of her when I look in the mirror, and see my resemblance. I always looked at my mom, and fell more in love with her, each time. I would tell her that I loved her, as far as the universe, and I would open my arms as wide as I could, but I could never stretch them far enough. My love for her was unmeasurable. She was the burning light of my life, and she became the moon in my night sky, when she passed away. She gave me hope when I almost had none. I remember crying, calling out for her to come back. I missed her. I still miss her everyday. She was encouraging, but always from a distance. When she passed away, I took her place. Some nights, I begged so many times, to see her in my dreams. I wanted her to show me the way, because I was so lost. The moon went away, and left me alone. But I knew that she was on the other side, shining light for someone else, on a lonely night.

Sometimes I can’t believe that life is real, when I’m staring at a sky full of stars, knowing how far the universe expands, and how we are basically living stars. Sometimes I can’t believe that I survived. One night I was walking around my neighborhood, and I laid down on a slab of concrete where a home once was, and I stared at the glimmering sky above me. I felt lost, and lonely. But when I looked at the stars, I could almost feel them calling out to me, telling me to return home. I have felt like I don’t belong here, sometimes. My past has left me lacking so many things in life, and I had finally felt like I had a place to call home. If ever I lost my place in my house, or if didn’t have anyone to talk to, or if I questioned why I was here, all I had to do was look up, and I’d be reminded of why I am here. We are created by the universe to simply live, to experience. Sometimes that’s felt like too much to want in life. In middle school, I was a lonely kid, because even though I had friends, I was never invited to hang out with anybody, I was never someone’s ride or die best friend. I spent most of my time with my dad. And occasionally I went over to my cousin’s house on the weekends, and me and her would play with Monster High dolls, and we played dress up, walking around in heels, and sheet dresses, and we’d eat dinner like we were dining at a fancy restaurant. The food was quite exquisite, if I do say so myself. I found a home, away from home, because I could be myself over there. My dad didn’t know what I was doing on the weekends, or that I was using the money he gave me, to buy a new Monster High doll every time. And when he did find out, because my brother found out and told him, he yelled at me for playing with dolls, and made me go over there to show him where the dolls were. He was disappointed, because I wanted to play with dolls. When I was thirteen, I came out, and to this day he doesn’t mention, or ask if I have a boyfriend. He was closer with my brother, because they could talk about rifles, and cars, and my brother is becoming the engineer in our family. And even though I made it through high school, and was the more mature one who could be left alone, he still didn’t trust me. He wouldn’t defend me when my brother would bully me, unless I began to fight back, then he got annoyed and yelled at both of us. It wasn’t my fault. He brings up the fact that I ditched twelve days, when I was in middle school, even though I’m twenty years old now. He got mad at me for stupid things, and we’d argue like we were a married couple, rather than a father and son. He always had something to use against me. That’s why I didn’t trust him anymore. I couldn’t trust my brother, because he never finished bullying me. He used to blackmail me all the time, to get what he wants. I remember being in my room one night, and my brother came in drunk from a party, and I ignored him because I know how he gets. He use to drink all the time, and get drunk whenever he could. He was so insecure, and so broken, but he never talked about it. He started talking to me about how he knew I was gay, from a young age. He said, “I grew up next to you, and I saw all the shows you watched, and I knew.” And I remember him telling me, that being gay is a mental disease. And I tried to shrug it off, and tell him whatever, and when I brought up my mom, that’s when he raised his finger as if he were warning me. “Don’t talk about her,” he said. He’s gotten better over the past few years, but I never forget the things he’s done to me, or the things he said to me. And I thought he would change, but he never did, because he’s too egocentric. He will never love me, the way that I have always loved him. My dad left me alone, to make my own decisions, a long time ago. “That’s life,” he would always say, as if everything were a life lesson to be taught, instead of helping me to solve my issues. So I had to figure things out on my own. That’s part of the reason, I had to grow up so quickly. I remember fighting with him about how disgusting the house had become, and he’d yell back at me saying, “if you don’t like it here, then you could go move out, and go live with your sister, or go live with your grandma on the Reservation, she’ll take care of you there !” And as much as I wanted to yell right back, I stayed quiet, and I stayed. Like a scared little lion, going back into my domestic little cage, I went back to my bedroom, and locked the door behind me. I always felt like it was me against the world. And I realize now that it isn’t just me against the world. That when I didn’t have a home, I always had one somewhere else, or at least I’d find one again. But now I am comfortable knowing that I belong to the sky, and I belong to the stars. That, is my forever home.

The sun will rise, even after the hardest day, in my life. A reminder, that no matter what happens, there is always hope, and possibility for new chances to arise. To not be so hard on myself all the time. Because I remember when I left middle school, and had to begin a new chapter of my life. My friends all went to different high schools, or they were lucky and ended up at the same one together. Of course, I was by myself. But even though I was afraid, I met a lot of great people in high school, and made a good amount of friends who I still keep in contact with today, even if it’s just a like on my Instagram post. After I graduated, I began the adventure of living my life, something I hadn’t done before when I was in school. I’m realizing that high school was just a part of my life, and my world was about to grow so much more. Because now, I have time to invest in discovering myself, and in doing so I develop my art, and I walk around the city, and am able to travel and carry my life off to whatever place I can settle into. I began writing, and created my blog, and that brought so many more people into my life, which I had never expected. People from all across the world have read my blog, and my friends from high school have messaged me, telling me how beautiful my writing was, and how it made them see a different perspective, or made them feel connected to someone else, or it inspired them to go out and discover the world, and learn things. And that makes me so happy, that I was able to inspire people. “You’re off to great places, today is your day, your mountain is waiting, so get on your way,” by Dr. Suess, was my senior theme for that year. In the end, I ended up graduating. It was a tough year, and I barely made it, but I was able to say that I did it. I graduated next to my best friend, that I met my freshman year in science class. And I was able to grow, out into the world after that. I began to discover so much art, and music, I began to write and read more often, and I fell in love with being able to do that. I started to see the light at the edge of the horizon, and I’ve been feeling like I’m on a sail boat, heading towards the light. I’ve been searching for an island of hope, and it’s been a great adventure. The only problem was, my boat was anchored down, by something heavy, and it kept me idle for so long, that I wondered if I would ever get to where I’m headed. The Sun was beautiful, at sunrise, but as the day went on, it began to burn as it reached more height in the sky.

I’d been burned before, by the Sun. Sometimes I wish the Sun knew on the hottest day of the year, that it was the source of the cause, because it is unaware of the great power that burns within it. I believe, that the reason that I search for that homely, and heated love inside of others, is because I became a flower, addicted to the warmth, that hid away from the sun for too long. Your parents are people, who are suppose to love you. Your parents are suppose to take care of you; your parents are suppose to support you; your parents are support to teach you, and show you, and they’re suppose to bring you comfort and love. I remind myself everyday, that love isn’t suppose to hurt. Love is something that I can’t fully understand, because love is so different, to every person. And growing up, I went through so much trauma and pain, and it wasn’t until I was questioning why, if I love my dad so much, do I hate him whenever he’s around ? Why don’t I want to be with him, out in public ? Why don’t I appreciate everything he’s done for me, am I that ungrateful ? I’ve felt guilty for so long now, wondering why I shut the person out of my life, who raised me all on his own. But I realized, that it’s because I have this pent up resentment against him, for how I grew up. I appreciate the person that I am today, because I survived so much in my younger years. But even to this day, I have never received any sort of credit for all the work I have done. I have not had any recognition, for how tired I am, from putting in so much work in my house, to make us a family. I know my dad so well, and yet he knows only the certain events going on in my life, that I have decided to tell him about. I’ve gone back and forth on how to exhibit him in my writings, because a part of me is filled with rage when I think about my pain, but the other part me also loves him so much, that I can’t encage him like a convict, to my art. But I guess this is my story, and maybe it will help someone, at least myself at the very least, to move forward with my life. Growing up in my house, I felt very isolated. My dad was there, only because I wanted him to be, but not when I needed him to be. He was there to pay for my trip to Disneyland, or my summer flights to visit family. He was there for my concerts, my teacher conferences, my promotion, and my graduation. However, he wasn’t there when I taught myself how to cook, or how to pay for my own clothes, or how to set up a credit card, or how to take the bus to travel around the city, or how to love somebody correctly. He never taught me how to communicate, and how important it is, or even how to move out, and travel the world when I can. He didn’t teach me my confidence, or my love, or the things I had already taught myself how to do. My father wasn’t there when I cried myself to sleep, because my brother was bullying me all the time, or because he has hurt me so bad. His only advice, when I told him my brother was picking on me, was to lock myself in my room, so that he “wouldn’t bother me.” He was only there to be angry, or to pay for things. And at times, It’s hard for me to understand how his love works, because even though he grew up poor, and gave me financial stability, which was his way of saying I love you, I appreciate you, he was always too stubborn to accept that that was never enough for me. Especially when I was crying in the car, telling him how much I feel like he never loved me, or cared about me, and how tired I was, going back and forth with him, fighting with him all the time. And whenever I was there to clean the house, he would get mad at me because I threw things away, like a box of crackers from eight years ago. He tried to teach me about the “real world.” But his only version of the “real world,” is going to school, getting a job that pays you well, and working that 9-5 job for the rest of your life. Other than that, he didn’t care much about another option, he never gave me an alternative. I take credit for learning the things I learned, and for having the ability to teach myself all of the thing he never did. I taught myself the alternatives, and I taught myself how to survive, without him. My dad and my brother told me so many things, that I made myself believe when I was growing up. They were still dealing with so much in their own worlds, and in a way, I pity them. They’re so much alike in their stubbornness, that they can never open up their minds to view the world differently. They never listened to my crying, or my yelling, so I stopped doing it, because it wasn’t worth it anymore. I always questioned their love for me, and went back and forth, wanting them out of my life completely, one minute, and then thinking maybe they’ll change, the next. “Maybe one day they’ll tell me that they’re sorry for everything.” As I grew older, I had to unravel the string that attached me to that house, because it began choking me. When I came out at age thirteen, I told my dad and my brother last. I called them into the living room, because I couldn’t take it anymore. And when I finally said the words, “I’m gay,” I looked at my brother, and all I saw was his smug smile, because he knew, he was just waiting for this day to come. And seven years later, after telling my dad, that I’m gay, he still doesn’t admit it to himself. He’ll go on about how I’ll have a girlfriend, or a wife, and hesitates talking about me having kids. So if he loves me so much, why can’t he just say it ? I felt suffocated in that house, since my mom passed away. That home was only a home, because my mom had kept it together, and she was my sanctuary. And when she died, I took her place, at age eight. And I’ve been thinking to myself, how fucked up that is, that I had to deal with those responsibilities, being so young and ignorant. I hate that I grew up so fast. I remember how much I wanted to grow up, and move out, and never look back. I remember almost calling Child Protective Services, so that I could find a family who wanted to love someone like me. I grew comfortable in my sadness, lying in bed all the time, locked away in my room, staring at the ceiling, wondering when it’s all going to end. I thought about giving up so many times, that it makes me sad that I thought of myself as unworthy, of living such a beautiful life. It’s not perfect, it may never be, or maybe it will be one day, I’ll never know. But I have learned you don’t know how life is going to turn out, and you just have to accept the process. What I grew up lacking, I made up for in my teenage years, by being the person that I was. I became a person, who gave other people, what I wish I had, when I was growing up. I wish I had someone there for me, anytime I needed somebody. I wish I had someone give me something, just because it reminded them of me. I wish that I had love, without ever having to beg for it, or question it. I wish I had the confidence to be myself, to be comfortable in everything. I wish I had a dad. I wish I had a brother. I wished upon a star, for a better life. And I looked up at the sky, and looked directly into the sun, knowing that if I stayed there long enough, it would eventually kill me. So I gave up. I hid away from the sun, never knowing when I’d find another love in my life, again. I can still feel the blood rushing down, from my head, to my toes, and I can feel the blood rush to my rosy cheeks, as soft and delicate as they are. As much as I wanted to force myself to move on, and try to forget about it, deep down I’m still a child who blames him, for never having cared enough to love me the way that I needed. And maybe down the road, in the next few decades of my life, I will find it in myself to forgive him. Maybe when he’s dying, and I’ll be thinking about the times that he made pancakes for me, that were shaped like Mickey Mouse heads, or how generous of a man he was; or maybe when I finally learn how to drive, and I’ll be coasting along the highway jamming out to No One Like You by Scorpions, or Who’s Crying Now by Journey, or I’ll be listening to any Fleetwood Mac song, or Crazy On You by Heart, and I’ll laugh at myself, because I remember when I used to hate these songs. But his music taste influenced mine, and I’ll alway remember his stories, when he was growing up in a sentimental time. Maybe one day I’ll be walking, because I’m always heading somewhere, and I’ll realize that I have finally forgiven him. And the first thing I’ll do, is call him. I’ll be crying, and I’ll be telling him that I love him, and that I understand why, and I’ll forgive him for everything. One day, I will find it in me, to forgive him, for myself. But for now, I’m just a child in pain. I’m learning to process things from that part of my life, now that I have moved out. I need time to myself to process everything, and to find out who I am, without my trauma, because I realize that I can’t move forward from my past, while I am still living in it.

Not to sound like a cliché, coming of age movie, but they say that when you deal with the rain, you get the rainbow. It feels like my whole life, I’ve been dealing with the rain, waiting for my rainbow to come out from behind the clouds. I wish I could say that I waited out the storm, and I’m finally past it, but it continually rains on and off. I’m constantly waiting for life to get better. I have this way of perceiving life, where I have this positive outlook, but a bittersweet perception of my experience. With everything I have dealt with growing up, I am still hurting. I am still a flower caught in that storm, right now. I sometimes wish, that I could be like those people who dance in the rain. Out here in the Desert, when the clouds begin their approach, and the wind begins to roar, you can smell the rain heading your way. You can feel the sparks in the air, before a rainstorm, because it’s so electrifying. My first instinct when a storm is coming, is to run outside, and look up at the sky. During the summer last year, I sat by my front door, and I watched the rain, pouring down. I watched as the lightning struck all around me, and far off in the mountains. I was glad I made it back inside before it grew stronger. My life at the time, was so stressful. I felt so alone, and I was thinking about so many things, and I decided that I was going to go out into the rain, and I was going to stand there. So I went outside, and I stood there, and I let the rain wash away the crud of emotions, and the stains that were left on my soul, from the last couple of months, leading up to that moment. The rain had left me feeling cleansed again, like the time I got baptized in the Mormon church. It felt like the rain had understood my pain, and my emotions. And it left me feeling soft inside, and I cried. I wasn’t expecting to cry.

The way that I view people, in my life, and the way that I appreciate them, is by imagining them as a flower in my garden. And everyday, I go out, and I water my flowers. I check on them, making sure that they’re okay, and have everything they need. And one day, these flowers will eventually bring loving joy, and beauty into my life. I love to show off my garden, and I love to talk to people about the friends, and the best friends that I have, and how amazing people are ! I love talking to people, and I love getting to know them more and more, and getting into deep conversations about everything. To me, people are beautiful, because they have the ability to find beauty in things, and they can be so kind, and loving, and so inspirational, without even realizing it sometimes. Growing up, I felt like I was never heard by anyone around me. People sometimes listened in, but would get distracted by something else. No one had really asked me what’s wrong, and no one used to look at me, with oceans in their eyes, like I had parted the seas, and opened up their minds to a new topic or a new idea. I felt like no one cared to hear, what I had to say. So I grew up, listening to everyone else. I asked people how they were feeling, how they were dealing, in hopes that one day someone would ask me how I was doing. And in high school, when I discovered the power you inherent, when you write something so majestic and so beautiful, and you open up your mind to that beautiful, deep, and rich world of personable knowledge, you can’t help but to think, of anything else. So I began to write. I began to journal, and write down anything I wanted to say at that time. I documented my life, my emotions, and my stories. I wrote about a party that my best friend Cici threw, where everyone was making out with each other, and this guy had licked my neck on a dare. I wrote about how I stayed up until five in the morning, the night after prom, because my friends wouldn’t go to sleep in the hotel room we stayed in. I got to watch the sunrise, and we slept for two hours, and then went to Denny’s for breakfast. When I read through my old journals, I recognize that there was so much sadness, following my teenage years, before I graduated high school. I felt like I was alone, and I was constantly sad, because I wasn’t living the life that I wanted. I wasn’t happy. I had moments of happiness, but it lasted for a short amount of time. But now I learned how to be heard, and that I will find those friends, who care to sit down, and listen to the dumb shit I have to say sometimes. I tell my best friend stories when I see her, and I’m always so descriptive, and she tells me she loves it. She can really see the story, that I’m making a picture of. And It took me many years to find those people who would listen to me, to understand me better, and those who cared enough to want to hear more in the future. This pandemic has taught me, to no longer hold myself back, from doing the thing that I want to do. So I ask random people, questions that pop into my head sometimes, just because I want to hear their answer. I find the courage to have a conversation with someone, because you realize that people are so fascinating when you begin to talk to them. You understand them more, and about what they’re saying, even if you can’t relate to it. Two years ago, I had a conversation with a woman named Deborah, on my way home. She may have been my guardian angel, or she may have just been a really wise older woman, driving for Lyft at the time, who shared some of her wisdom with a boy like me that day. She said it was the best conversation she had ever had. I started talking about school, and how I was taking a break, and that led to a discussion about life, and regret, and the choices she had made, and the lessons she learned from those decisions. And overall how life is about finding satisfaction and happiness. It was a reassuring conversation for me, that everything will be okay. When we arrived at my house, she turned around when I opened the door, about to leave, and she told me five lessons about life, that I have never forgotten: karma is important, so always be kind to people; happiness over money, always; that people are meant to meet each other when they need to; and she told me that she could tell that I will be a very happy, old man; and to remember the words that she had told me that day, because one day I’ll look back, and realize that she was right. And so far, she was. I remember ditching school, to go to Mt. Lemmon with my five best friends, senior year. We had so much fun up there, and even though my best friend had gotten in trouble for it, she said it was worth it. I remember the time I felt satisfied, when I told this boy who was picking on me, to go to hell. It hurt him when I said that, and he told on me. I remember the time my math teacher cried during lunch, and she told me not to tell anyone about it. I remember the time my best friend stood up for me, to a boy who asked if I was gay, and she told him it was none of his business, and now she’s my soulmate. A girl named Valerie used to wear a flower in her hair, and I was in awe of her beauty. I remember a rich pair, of sparkly blue heels, that I wore in kindergarten, and how confident I felt whenever I’d wear them, and now I buy things in that blue, wherever I can find it. I remember when a girl was walking down University, and she stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, to take a photo of flowers that were blooming on the side. I was cheering her on inside my head. I love being around my aunties, whenever we visit, because they are always baking and cooking something delicious. They sit at the table with their family, and gossip about everyone, in their small town. They reminisce on the old days, and you can hear how everyone is getting older. I remember when I took my friend’s hand at prom, and me and him slow danced together to Neon Moon. I remember when I was at starbucks, and I forgot my wallet at home when I left for work, and this guy had bought my protein bar for me, and wished me a Merry Christmas. My sister is someone who had always been there for me. We used to video chat every now and then, and we’d update each other on our lives, and I’d tell her how things were going in my household, most of the time it was same old, same old. She used to listen to me all the time, and I’d message her when things got bad again. She was right, that I just needed to leave. And now, she still continues to support me, anyway she can. A couple weeks ago, she sent me two house warming gifts, that I wasn’t expecting. She told me that I ever feel lonely, I could just call her if I need anything. I remember when I did something that I knew I was going to get in trouble for. I knew my dad would find out, and I had accepted my fate. I started posting things on Facebook like, “I deserve this… I deserve everything that happens to me… I just want it all to go away…” And me being thirteen, and my family being concerned, they commented on my post asking if I was okay. My cousin called me on the phone asking what was wrong. I broke down, and I couldn’t tell her what I had done. She came to pick me up, and she drove to the McDonald’s on the corner near my house, and we sat there for almost two hours talking. In a way, she saved me that night. People offer perception, and love, and kindness, and advice, that’s what I’ve noticed. And I never forgot the times where people had done things for me, and I smile when I think about the people who told me how beautiful my smile is, despite it being my biggest insecurity. I remember every time someone has bought me, or given me a cup of coffee, or when someone has given me a gift, a compliment, or made me a happy boy, in some sort of way. Growing up, I had always wanted to be gifted things, without ever having to ask for it. Because I watched as people were given special gifts on their birthdays, or balloons at graduation, or flowers at performances, or some small token of gratitude, because their friend saw something and it reminded them of that person. I feel like I gave so much to everyone, without ever expecting anything in return. But secretly wishing, that they’d do the same for me one day. No one remembered my birthday, unless I told them. No one bothered to buy me a gift, except for my dad. So I lowered my expectations, and that only made the feeling worse for me. For a while, I had lost my hope, but lately I learned that if you begin to love yourself, and if you do things for yourself first, and others second, the rest of it will follow. Sometimes I get blinded by things that shouldn’t really matter. Not that my opinions, or my thoughts are invalid, but its not worth wasting any sort of worry, or stress on it. This world is so much larger, and greater, and the universe being so immense, than what we can even begin to process, makes my issues seem a lot smaller. To the people who showed me that kindness, who showed me that the world doesn’t have to be scary, and ugly, but can be beautiful, and accepting, and open for me to do what I please, thank you. The boy who didn’t tell me, but implied that maybe he is in love with me, by telling me his tattoo idea that would include my initials on it, after all the years I spent avoiding him, because I thought he was only using me for sex, I’m glad I talked to him that night. He told me that whenever he’d hear the song Somewhere Over The Rainbow, he was always hoping that one day, that’s where he would find me. In December, I had my first boyfriend. I didn’t tell anyone right away, because I was afraid of it not lasting very long, and I didn’t want to deal with having to tell people that we broke up after we did. But for a moment, I was happy. I was walking around, and I felt like I was on top of the world. I was singing the lyrics of Walking On Sunshine in my head, “I'm walking on sunshine and it's starting to feel good, hey !” I remember the way he held my hand and kissed it, and I remember how good his lips felt against mine, and how he’d kiss my neck, and eventually left hickies that lasted over a week. It felt good going out and risking judgement, because I didn’t care. It felt right, when I stayed out with him until three in the morning, making out underneath the stars, and having long conversations. When I care about someone, or even love someone, it happens fast, and I can’t imagine not having that person in my life after that. And when I thought things were going to get better once I moved out, my world came crashing down, all at once, and it destroyed me. I had to end my relationship with him, because we weren’t compatible anymore. I got sick, and I didn’t move into my apartment the way I thought I would. I kept thinking to myself, that something had changed in him, and I could tell. We lost what small spark we had together. I remember playing Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran, and he said “oh, I know a song,” and played Kiss Me by Sixpence Non The Richer. I remember when he was driving on the freeway and said, “you know, one of these days I’m just gonna keep going. I’m not going to stop,” and he looked over at me and held my hand. The night that we went up to the mountain, and overlooked the city, I was mesmerized by the way it sparkles, one thing I always wanted to do. It was hard thinking about leaving him, but I knew that I would one day find someone better, more deserving of the love I had to give. One thing I’ve learned, is to not be afraid of living life, with my heart on my sleeve. Bad things may happen, and the people I thought would stay, end up leaving me sometimes, and it’s hard. But I survived. I endured, and I learned, to either take things as a blessing, or as a lesson that was worth learning. What is meant for me, will find me. I am not damaged goods, and I am not unloveable. I try to believe that I am beautiful, and that I am worthy. I try to believe in myself. People will say so many things to you in your life, and people will either agree or disagree with you, but it doesn’t really matter. What matters most, is what you believe at the end of the day. And I believe in love. I believe that I can’t be the only one, out in a world with seven billion other people, who has so much love and kindness to give. I believe in the therapy of singing along, and dancing in my bedroom to my 1,844 favorite songs in my Spotify playlist. I also believe in the therapy of baking banana bread, and sharing it with other people. Sometimes I just eat the whole thing by myself because it was so good. I believe in the power of giving, or receiving flowers from someone. My friend in high school, told her mom to buy me flowers on the final night of a performance, that I was a part of. I told her how much I wanted someone to gift me flowers, so she told her mom to go out and get me some for later that night. I remember the girl I got to know in three days before she moved back to Oregon, or the guy who told me how amazing my art is, and to keep creating, or the lady who told me my outfit was “jazzy,” and many more times I fell in love with people for a moment because of the things they did or said. If no one else’s words, or stories, have convinced you that love does exist out there, and that you just have to search for it, do you believe in it now ? I sure hope so, because if not, I might just have to gift you a flower from my garden, and they will tell you otherwise.

I have always wanted to be like those people, like my best friend cheyenne, who just attracts beautiful things, and beautiful butterflies into her life. I remember when I saw a bee land on a flower, crawl inside of it, and I never saw it again. Sometimes I sit, and I ponder all the events in my life, and I think about how many things would be different, if one occurrence never took place. Like, if my mom never passed away, where would I be ? What would I be doing ? Who would I have met ? Who wouldn’t I have met ? I remember the afternoon that I went out into the desert with a boy, and we laid on a blanket, and stared at the clouds, as we watched the moon come out, while the sun began to set. I remember being scared that we’d be eaten alive by some wild animal. I think about sitting with cheyenne, and the mornings we spent at Woops!, talking about us getting old, and hoping that things work out, and how one day we are going to move to New York City, and we’re going to become rich and famous. I always think about all of my friends, and all the happiness they brought me. I remember reading, Please Enjoy Your Happiness over the phone to him, while learning how to find my own happiness. I remember this time last year, walking around at the beginning of Spring, admiring all of the beautiful flowers that were blooming, while the state of the world was in chaos. I had finally found comfort in the Desert. It was like I had never really taken a moment, to notice how truly beautiful my city was, until then. I think about what it was like, sitting in the corner of a coffee shop, journaling or working on a piece for hours. I used to tell my best friends, about how cute the baristas are. I miss sitting in coffee shops all the time. I could walk in, sip a coffee for an hour or so, and watch the world go by through the windows. I think about the time I saw someone deposit a note, for my project, Listening To The Flowers. And that time that me and cheyenne were walking on University, and we had stopped for a moment. And when we both looked into the window of a nearby house, we saw a couple hug each other, and we both awed at how cute it was. I cherish my memories of how my birthdays were spent, or the times I traveled to see family, to parties, to my prom, and graduation night. I kept telling him that he was the boy who gave me the stars, not to be confused with the boy who showed me the stars, and I was smiling so big that night. I have moments, where I am reminded that I am right where I always wanted to be. I came across an old room tour video I took on my camera, three years ago, when I was seventeen. And it’s crazy to have seen myself, and forget that I captured that part of my life forever. And I’m reminded that everything in life, will work itself out eventually. I remind myself all the time, that the people who want to stay, will stay. And that there are so many people I have yet to meet, and so many experiences I have yet to have. Everything will be okay. The girl who was in the friend group, the one who hurt you the most, will message you out of the blue one day, because she was thinking about your falling out, and wanted to let you know that she was sorry for all of it. One day you’ll find your family who makes you happy. You’ll find new homes to take shelter in, to be reminded that love is real, and you’ll go to these places everyday, or every other day, or only on the weekends. You will one day find your comfort. And one of these days, you’ll be lying in your best friend’s bedroom, on her bed, and you’ll be telling her a story, and you’ll say that you are so happy right now. You’ll look into her eyes, and you’ll be holding her hand, and you’ll be telling her how good it feels to finally be happy. And she will look at your eyes, and ask, “are you in love with him ?” And your response will be, “maybe.”

My life flows, with rivers of honey. The Desert flourishes with blooming flowers. At night, it reveals itself, with illuminating stars that light up the sky, and it shares an eternal bond with the moon. One day, the Earth will meet its doom. As I heard when I watched The Fault In Our Stars again and again, oblivion is inevitable. I add the Desert honey in my morning coffee, everyday. My friends and I spent hours outside one night, huddled around a burning fire, as we were burning the letters that she had written for her ex. We were laughing into the night, like a pack of coyotes, that were howling at the full moon. My heart is an eternal sunset, that lives out in the Desert. I am the flower that grows through the dirt there. My adulthood was created from sadness, and pain. I wish that I could go to my past, to thank sincerely, the parts of me who sacrificed so much for me to be here today. I learned to utilize my sadness, and my loneliness, as building blocks. These building blocks were used, to create a space filled with love and acceptance. And the most beautiful thing that I have been told in my life, is that people feel like they can tell me anything. I have this feeling, that I give off, that people trust me, and they want to tell me things, that sometimes they’ve never told anyone before. And for that, I’m thankful, to be able to be that person for all of my little flowers. My life is never mundane, living here in the Desert anymore. Because no matter what time of year it is, flowers are blooming all around me. 

In the process of writing this piece, I wouldn’t have guessed, that things were about to change in my life, immensely. I have gone back and forth with these parts of my life for over four months now, and revisiting these old memories, and feelings that I used to have, remembering how doomed I felt, it wasn’t easy. Going back and forth, being where I was, and being where I am, has made me lose my sense of who I am. At the end of last year, a lot of things happened, and I lost out on a lot of experiences, that I was hoping for. I lost my first relationship after a couple of weeks, I lost my happiness, my creativity, my motivation, my purpose, my passion, and that devastated me. I began telling people this story, and now my whole life is no longer a secret anymore. Why I do the things that I do, and why I say the things that I say, is all because of my past, and what I’ve learned along the way. And I’ve come to the conclusion that even who I was before I started this piece, isn’t who I am now. I’ve been stuck, in this weird transition period, and I don’t feel like I have a stability of who I am, or what I want. And I try to remember the things that Deborah told me, in order to stay true to who I am. I once wrote a piece that I called, A Flower Learning to Bloom Again. And it was a piece about learning to find myself again, and learning how to bloom into the person I wanted to be. And I talked about always striving to be loving, and kind to everyone, especially to myself. But sometimes it can be challenging because of unexpected obstacles. When I wrote that piece, my idea was that a flower only blooms once, lives out it’s life, until it begins to die. It fucking scares me to imagine that I won’t become the person I want to be. I’ve moved out of my dad’s house, my childhood home. And the rest of my life is now my responsibility, and I’m dependent only on myself, to survive. But even though I’m afraid, I have trust that I will bloom again, into a beautiful newborn flower, only this time I won’t be afraid of the Desert. The Desert has only ever wanted to protect me, and like a delicate little flower, out in the Desert, I endured. I’ve gone through the storms, the excruciatingly hot days, the sluggish days, the overcast days, and I’ve seen most of the beautiful sunsets, and the rainbows, that come after the rain. I believe that when you die, everything comes together all at once. You start to realize and connect everything you’ve ever gone through. And that’s what this piece is, for me. The death of who I once was, the death of who I am, but also the rebirth, of who I will become, the flower I will grow into. But if, I was ever walking on the sidewalk, and I find the remains of a little flower, I’d like to save the remains. Just like I save the remains of my past, I save little flowers to send in my letters, or I put it in between the pages of my journal, or I include it in a piece that I write for my readers to enjoy, or whatever else I decide to do with it. This is a new beginning. The sun is going to rise again, and the frost from the night before will begin to thaw. And what will be left, is the droplets of water, covering the dirt, and the reminder that there was once a flower growing there. But only time will tell how the little flower will begin again. Yesterday, I cleaned my apartment, did laundry, did the dishes, made dinner, woke up and got some coffee this morning. And tonight I’m laying in bed, about to go to sleep, and I feel accomplished. I open my door in the morning, and I listen to the birds singing outside. I listen to the wind blowing softly through the trees in the afternoon, and I wrote a letter to my best friend, telling her about what’s been going on in my life, and how much I miss her. I realize now that happiness will come and go in my life. And as much as I will alway miss who I was before, and as much as I miss being happy, I will eventually find my happiness again. I found it once before, and I will surely find it again. Because this won’t be the end for me. One day, I walked into Woops!, as I have done a million times before, and I saw the wonderful Ellie, who fills my heart with joy when I see her smile, and she waves at me. She asked me how everything was going, and how I was doing. I told her that I was doing okay, and that I was starting to feel better. And she took me by surprise when she said to me, “well that’s good, we need you here. I don’t know what the world would be like without having Brandon !” I could’ve cried right on the spot, and I almost did. Because all I ever wanted to be reassured of in my past, was that I was important to somebody. I lay underneath the trees and watch the clouds roll by peacefully, sometimes wishing I were on it, sailing away from the world, from civilization. Who doesn’t daydream about the things they’d rather be doing, or the places they’d rather go to ? But despite how terrible things can be in life, or how horrendous things can be in this world, I have found, that it is so beautiful. You are so beautiful. You are so worthy of so many wonderful things. If you look in the mirror, and tell yourself these things, you just might cry. I know I did. The world is my cup of coffee, and I inhale, the bittersweet scent of it, every chance I get. I’m so addicted to this thing called Life. I can stare at the sky for hours, I can walk around and breathe in the day ahead, and I wake up every morning, even when it’s hard to, and I am thankful to be alive. My advice on how to get by in life, is to just do it. Say ‘fuck it’ more often than you say ‘maybe.’ Say what’s on your mind, because eventually it won’t matter at all. Be kind, choose happiness over money. Apologize, if you did something wrong, and don’t worry about being soft and intricate sometimes. Open your arms wide, and hug who you can, when you get the chance. You’d be surprised when they hug you back. Say thank you, and scream, and cry as often as you can, even if it’s too much at times. Take a shower when you get home, and you’ll feel a little bit better. I have read a lot of quotes online, and I came across one that I think about a lot. It’s called, You’re Not Making The Most Of Your 20’s, by Ryan O’Connell, “You want to kiss all kinds of different people, you want to wake up in a stranger’s bed maybe once or twice just to see if it feels good to feel nothing, you want to have a group of friends that feels like a tribe, a bonafide family. You want to go from one place to the next constantly and have your weekends feel like one long epic day. You want to dance to stupid music in your stupid room and have a nice job that doesn’t get in the way of living your life too much. You want to be less scared, less anxious, and more willing. Because if you’re closed off now, you can only imagine what you’ll be like later. Every day you vow to change some aspect of your life and every day you fail. At this point, you’re starting to question your own power as a human being. As of right now, your fears have you beat. They’re the ones that are holding your twenties hostage. Stop thinking that everyone is having more sex than you, that everyone has more friends than you, that everyone out is having more fun than you. Not because it’s not true (it might be!) but because that kind of thinking leaves you frozen. You’ve already spent enough time feeling like you’re stuck, like you’re watching your life fall through you like a fast dissolve and you’re unable to hold on to anything. I don’t know if you ever get better. I don’t know if a person can just wake up one day and decide to be an active participant in their life. I’d like to think so. I’d like to think that people get better each and every day but that’s not really true. People get worse and it’s their stories that end up getting forgotten because we can’t stand an unhappy ending. The sick have to get better. Our normalcy depends upon it. You have to value yourself. You have to want great things for your life. This sort of shit doesn’t happen overnight but it can and will happen if you want it. Do you want it bad enough? Does the fear of being filled with regret in your thirties trump your fear of living today? We shall see.” I always thought my life was a scorching desert, but rather, it is a mystical, healing, shining, blooming Desert. I find the beauty within it, as I do within myself. I will love myself unconditionally from now on. And as I start to feel the Desert wrapping it’s arms around me, I have learned to give into it finally. I accept my fate, and I begin to wrap my arms around it, and welcome it. I can feel my last breath being taken, and this is the death of who I once was, a fluorescent, Desert flower. I find that I am no longer attached to the things that kept me behind, in life. I no longer have those old feelings, those old thoughts, and I am no longer trapped in those places I once was. This piece is near it’s end. My life, like a chapter in a book, is ending. But only from the person I was. I am no longer held back anymore. I will bloom again, and again.