My garden.

I've always wanted to grow a garden, to have lovely plants to look at. All sorts of colors and shapes and ways to kiss the sunlight.

I started with a seed, and the rain washed it away. So I tried again, dehydration its end.

I tried growing another in water and it rotted. Tried again next week, and it wilted away.

So I bought a small plant next. It was good for a bit, and it outgrew its pot. I put it in a bigger one and it went sad and gray. Switched places, moved the soil with no avail. I saw it die with every passing day.

Got a full grown plant, and things would seem to be okay. But its leaves started falling, and stems went curved. And I was left with a huge pot full of nothing like I knew I would.

It's supposed to be easy. Friends have them all around their place. Salesmen tell me it's for dummies. My family's keep blooming every season.

So why can't I grow plants like everyone else?

I feel stupid and sad and so damn frustrated because I can't seem to do it right, no matter what I do. I forget and I try and I keep killing plants. I'm the only one that seems to be bound to ruin everything I touch.

I follow the guidelines, I do my research. I ask every person that seems to know their way around them.

But my plants keep dying and wiltering and rotting. And my loneliness grows every passing moment.

I long for my garden, my herbs, and their leaves. I long for the seedlings that grow in the spring.

I picture the flowers, bees in their leaves. I see all the lillies, sunflowers, tulips.

So I sit in the rain, with my rusty water can. Watering a garden that simply just can't.

Of course this is not about plants at all, though the struggle is real.

We each have our garden, we each have our dreams.