Like A Flower

I've been thinking a lot about irony lately, and Ive come up with the greatest example of it.

My name.

A Violet is a flower; a beautiful, dark, mesmerizing flower. In fact, it's a lot like me.

I've noticed that a Violet and i have a lot in common, and not just because it's my name, but because like a Violet flower, I am only in season every once in awhile. I am only actually happy once in a great while, just as the flower only blooms in the springtime when everything is gorgeous and the world seems perfect.

I wish I weren't a flower, but I can't help it. I can't always be happy and beautiful, because that's not how I am. Sure, people tell me all the time how pretty I am, but it doesn't matter, I don't care.

It's funny actually, how much I am like that flower, or all flowers in general I suppose. Sometimes I am happy, when the flower is standing upright in the sun, but then my happiness is taken away from me and I slowly drift back into the pain, when the flower is wilting, and then I begin to hurt myself more and more, when the petals that were once beautiful begin to drop off the flower

The most ironic thing? Like a flower, I must die when my petals all drop off and there is nothing left of me to hold onto.

Violets Don't Live Forever.