Alone time is okay. And it’s okay if some days you just want to dig into cloudy soil with muffled breaths to make a blanket out of morning sunlight and just go back to sleep. it’s okay if an assail of jitters takes over and all you do is sink- so let yourself sink, and let yourself fold into a beautiful paper crane. your wings might be tainted with vermillion cuts but know that they will heal with each peppermint breath of silence. Dear, it’s okay if some days, faraway echos of laughter tug at you but your limbs only want to weave into empty spaces and places where your arms can stretch for miles.
it’s okay if unlike other flowers you don’t explode, pirouette with light around presences and constant talking. instead, you might just want to ease on the accelerator, eyes enraptured by one one pair of pupils at a time.
some take it fast, and gulp down the day all at once- but it’s also okay to glide from one second to the next,
with time and patience.
at times you just need to stop with a mouth full of marvel and a deep breath.
you bloom in quiet beautiful places, and that’s okay too,
because honey, in the end, we all water our flowers in different ways.
So dear, take your time hopping from soul to soul. languidly expand and you’ll find that meeting each individual glow will soon feel as soft as braiding hair underwater.