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As much as I hate flowers, even I know that every rose has its thorns. Trust me, I’ve been pricked enough times to know that for a fact; but as I sit here [again], alone in this [metaphorical] garden of perpetual solitude, I can’t help but feel a false sense of disillusion. Why? Well, unknowingly I may have found a flower among many; but instead of nurturing that delicate flower and allowing it to [possibly] blossom into something beautiful, I neglected what I had and have nothing left to show for it.

Sure, at first, things were in full bloom and I cherished my little raybon of sunshine; but shortly thereafter I became complacent and was content with things being the way they were. As much as I knew a relationship was effort and that it was on me to match the work that was being put in, I thought I could hide behind this wall of mine and everything would be fine. Needless to say, that wasn’t the case.

I learned that in order for a relationship to work, both sides had to be willing to meet in the middle; and for some reason, I was always afraid to tear down that wall of mine. Was it wrong of me? Sure, I admit I messed up and that I’m not without my faults; still, actions speak louder than words.

I feel like I’ve been more than accommodating (as of late) when it comes to this particular situation and that I have been there time and time again, but it seems like all the problems we go through are incessant. It’s never ending and the more and more I fall, the harder this heartbreak becomes. It would’ve been easy to just let things die a long time ago and, in hindsight, I kind of wish I had; but to see where we have come from to now, is nothing when compared to where we could be. This endless game of cat and mouse can not continue forever, so rather than chase relentlessly, I’ve opted to let things burn.

As eloquently as Usher once put it, things between us is beyond repair. I know it. You know it. We both know it. The writing was on the wall a long time ago and to pretend any longer as if it wasn’t would be indicative of a lie. Do I regret anything? No, not in the least bit. The only thing I can do is trust my instincts and this just “feels like the right thing to do“.

It’s funny, now that the shoe is on the other foot, I understand what that means; and even now as I re-trace all the conversations we had, I realize I was never part of your plan. To be honest, you were never part of mine. So, although, things had the potential to work; I always knew that I could never trust you completely.

Call it a sixth sense, if you will, but your impetuous attitude, combined with your obsession to control things, was too much for even I to bear. You led me to believe one thing after another in hopes that we would one day be together, but now that I see things clearly, I realize I was never gonna be good enough for you. I was never going to meet the unrealistic standards you set forth. So, for what it’s worth, fuck everything we ever stood for. You hurt me, more than you know, so regardless of the chance that I had to “fuck” you; I didn’t. It’s just funny that I’m one that feels fucked. Now, how’s that for irony?

As harsh as that sounds, honestly, I’m not even mad. And that’s the thing. A part of me is saying that I should be, but I’m not. Sure, it would’ve been easy for us to simply fade into the background and remain friends; but as every day passes, I’m realizing how less and less unlikely that notion seems plausible.

For every call that goes unanswered to every passing thought of one another, I guess the best thing would be for us to not live in the past and [instead] focus on what lies ahead. Both of our lives have many chapters to be written and, while the story of us was not as pleasant as we would’ve hoped, there’s no telling how ours will even end. Life has a funny way of working out and, although I’m too hurt to see it at the moment, I know that you and I were never really right for one another. Yet and still, opposites attract; so until the day I die, I’ll always remember the one time I found a pink Lilly in a garden full of roses. Hopefully, you will too.

Author's Note

At first, I decided to be ambiguous with this whole thing and to just let it ride; but I figured a little clarity would only serve this literary masterpiece some justice.

On the surface, it appears as though I'm talking about one girl, but actually I'm not. Throughout, I'm really talking about three different girls; hence the title A Pink Lilly in a Garden Full of Roses. Only one was special enough to stand out and I feel like the rest, while beautiful on the outside, were just a waste of my time.

None of them compared to that one and to come so close, yet still not have her is one of the worst feelings in the world. Life goes on I suppose so I'm not really sweating it too much, so it is what is. I don't even like flowers too much anyway, let alone roses, but I tell you what..I'm tired of being pricked by every thorn. Something's gotta give so regardless of what life has in store for me, I just hope a beautiful bouquet with my name on it finds me in due time.