sometimes there are days when i feel every expression of joy in my life is fake
mine i mean i dont really want to judge others like that what do i know about their own internal lives i can hardly take stock of whats going on in my own
but i mean i look at a lilac ive planted because its my favourite flower it smells so good it used to fill me up with light every may when the lilacs at grandmas started blooming
and that lilac, we had to uproot it and put it somewhere else because were poor garden planners and the roses and peonies grew way faster and took all the light from it and we were afraid that if they all started growing out at the same time it was going to be a little too much for that little piece of soil
so we uprooted it and put it in front of the balcony instead of the side and it seemed fine that fall but then in the spring it was- not fine, the leaves grew in way too scarce and way too little it looked sick
i was honestly sure it would never be okay again because thats the kind of a person i am but
and i felt sad i did feel profound sadness and grief over this poor little lilac because the other one we planted him with didnt even take to the first place and boom now we killed that one too (i killed that one too)
but guess fucking what it turns out plants are way more resiliant than that because this year not only it looks fine but it /bloomed/
you get me? it fucking bloomed
three heavy fat flower bunches with the fattest biggest little flowers ive ever seen in a lilac
i mean we did choose that variety but holy shit did i not expect it to be that fat
and then i look at it and i take photos and i smile and i share it with my sister and i rejoice with mom and
i dont know if i actually feel joy about it
im relieved its not dead thats for sure
but the joy- its hard its hard to muster and even harder to maintain and sometimes i worry that all i do is just go through the motions of emotions like joy and happiness because its so so not really what i feel
but i cant really go around being sarcastic and apathetic towards everything because thats just depressing for everyone around me including me and the last thing i want is for mom to worry about me even more and for her to be even more upset
its enough shes down one daughter i may as well try to keep her thinking that im hanging in there somehow right
and hell maybe it really does work that way that if i express it enough the real joy will come like on some fucking weirdass bait
honestly doubt it but whats there to left for me but try
