woman smelling pink flowers

Wake Up And Smell The Flowers

Wake up and smell the flowers. Or don’t.

I mean, maybe you don’t like flowers. Maybe the smell reminds you of funeral homes. Maybe thorns cut you once. Or twice. Or three times. Maybe you begged them to stay alive and they wilted in front of your eyes. Maybe sunflowers were your best friend’s favorites but so were you and neither of you are anymore. Maybe you don’t know where to find them. Maybe you tried to do just that when a bee stung you and you’re allergic. Maybe the man you loved never brought any on Valentine’s Day and the man you didn’t always did. Maybe your floral-printed comforter never did keep you warm. Maybe you forgot to send some on your sister’s birthday and now she won’t speak to you. Maybe the last time someone handed you one, it was the worst day of your life. Maybe your mom loved roses but your dad could never afford them. Maybe you noticed how the fake ones always lasted the longest, just like people who hurt you seemed to. Maybe when you tried picking petals off a daisy, hoping that he loved you, the flower always said that he loved you not. Maybe you never got the chance to see one, to smell one. Or maybe it’s that you don’t want to wake up.

Well, please do. Please do.

Wake up and find your flowers, even if those flowers aren’t flowers.

Wake up and find what makes you really, truly alive—find the loveliness in the things you thought would hurt you.

Wake up and search for the scent of the things that turned out to be the most beautiful of all you’d ever seen grow.

Wake up and smell whatever it is that will help you appreciate life, then let life appreciate you, too.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Your flowers are waiting.

Words do a number on me. I want to make mine count.

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