Maybe I’ve Always Been Too Excited About Loving Things

When I was happy, I bought myself a cactus. I’ve never been great at growing plants. I thought a cactus would be a good place to start, there’s no way I could kill a cactus right? It was an easy one, didn’t need too much attention, just a bit of water and a lot of sunshine.

I put my cactus in my window. Right by where I do my makeup every day. My cactus made me open the window a lot more, the sunlight brought in brought me joy. One little plant brought so much light to my life.

It didn’t do much. It sat there and soaked up the sun, I was jealous as I left for work one day. How I wish I could stay and enjoy the heat with my cactus.

I watered my cactus. I would give it a little water each day, just enough to dampen it, and then go on with my life. It was easy.

A few months in, my cactus had a soft spot. It was just a little darker than the rest, I googled it and decided to skip watering it that day.

A few days later, the spot was noticeably bigger. I tried to water it less and less, and somehow the spot grew and grew. My happy little cactus was no longer happy.

I did what I could to save it, but within a couple weeks, my cactus was bent over sideways, lifeless. I didn’t need my window open anymore.

Maybe I watered it too much. Maybe if I caught it sooner my cactus would still be here. Maybe that’s what I did with you. You were my cactus, my easy to care for human, I knew I didn’t have to water you too much, just let you sit and enjoy the sunlight knowing at the end of the day, you were still there.

Maybe I got a little too excited loving you. Every day I gave you a bit more water. I knew you didn’t need it all, but it couldn’t hurt, right?

Before I knew it you were drowning. You didn’t call to tell me goodnight once, that was the first rotten spot I noticed. It grew from there. Each time you ignored a text, each time you canceled plans, each excuse I heard, that rotten spot got a little bigger. And eventually, it was too late.

Once a cactus starts to die, there’s not much you can do to save it. That’s how we ended. You can’t un-drown a person. You can’t make it better when they’ve already pulled away. There was no saving us.

Maybe it was me. I’ve been told I get attached easily. Maybe that’s the reason none of my relationships have worked out. You’d think I’d learn by now. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Maybe if my only downfall is that I give too much, I’m not doing too bad. Maybe not everyone sees that as a flaw. Maybe someone will see that someday and decide to keep me around.

Maybe it was you. Maybe I didn’t give too much, you gave too little. Maybe I thought if I gave more it would make up for what you’re not. Maybe you’re closed off, and can’t accept this kind of affection, because you’re still healing from a past love. I won’t do that.

So maybe it was me. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was just a cactus that got a little too much water.