We die, when the flowers die

Monday, September 20, 2021

Historically, a lot has been written on the subject of decay and intangible endings. I won't be the first, and I certainly won't be the last to derive that analogy and fixate on it but I can sure as hell make it mine. 

When I got the two bunch of flowers I did the weekend before last (my 30th), I didn't imagine, I'd co-relate the process of decay with the longing of a dead relationship. I had no reason to believe that either; for the first time in my life, I felt absolutely secure, safe, and allowed myself to be a whole and not put out to be like an old loaf of bread by the sun. I was absolute, not crumbs of eaten bread left by people over the time. Yet, here we are. 

I thought the whole pineapple can bit in Chungking Express was rather funny. A man pining for nearly a month and OD-ing on cans of tinned pineapple makes for an absurd tale of love and longing. But that's the thing about longing, all of this is absurd. The heart wants what is unavailable, what is no longer accessible nor acceptable. Yet, a juicy bite is all it craves. 

Similarly, in The Last Leaf, O. Henry attempts to visualize pining with withering and decaying of self. It's wholly powerful, potent enough to take your life. You think it's a work of literature and thus, the storyteller has put their imagination to test, and taken you for a ride. Yet, your own hopes are pinned on the bouquet of flowers blooming for just another day. 

If the flowers can outlast their natural span so can you, my love. 

Never mind, the bunch I had to discard cause much like us, I went all in and did my best to rescue it. Sometimes it's best to let things be, and allow them time. If they survive, they are yours to be and if they don't, atleast they brought you joy for as long as your lives intersected. 

I can't say I know what I'll do when I discard the last bunch in the bin; do I be hopeful that we still have a chance or do I celebrate what we had and move on as you had wished for me to do?

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