A Rose is A Rose.

A Rose is A Rose.

I used to get all crazy about the idea of a man buying me roses, I couldn’t wait for the day that it would make me feel nice. Like the idea of someone thinking of me and buying me flowers, and leaving a note saying “just because,”  it’s cute you know?

Well, I buy my own flowers.

After all, a rose is just a rose. And I don’t even like roses. Yes, they’re beautiful in their essence, but they’re fragile and they die quickly. Their reign is short lived, just when you’ve started to appreciate their beauty, they’re gone.

Well I’m no rose, not anymore.

I’m more of a European Pompon, they’re my favorite. I appreciate them, they kind of remind me of me. I did some research, apparently they symbolize optimism and joy. It’s crazy, because that’s exactly what they bring to me. Their many colors are bold and vibrant, and just as you take your eye off of them for a second, they bloom.

Recently I was bringing up some flowers that I brought for myself, they were these beautiful green and white Euros. My neighbor passing by stopped me, expressing how beautiful the flowers were, and that someone must really love me to have got them for me. I smiled, and I told him I brought them for myself, I love myself. 💋

One thought on “A Rose is A Rose.

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