Flower pedals and pesticide‏ / Marc Noda

What is this human condition?  What am I if not just a contraption of emotion?  An apparatus of love, fear, hate, and happiness - changing over time. We start so small as  such tiny seeds in the spring of our youth, in the wild of our imagination.  Where have our colors gone?  Why do our pedals wilt with every season?  Why do I find myself at the floor of my despair when there is nothing to despair?
Some use others to get what they want.  Some use pesticide to protect their withering souls.  Some just want to be.
Where am I in all of this?  Why does it seem as though I am constantly shifting in and out of light and darkness - of day and night?  Is this the moment in which I define myself?  Is this the place where I finally take a stand and say enough is enough?  That I am tired of weighing options - of listening to people - of being just a step behind the rest?  Is this where I will finally be free?
Free to accept the things I cannot change?  Free to love and to be loved?  Free to live my happiness and not worry about the rest?
All of these fucking questions.  I’m tired of these fucking questions - the indecision - the waiting on useless theories.  It’s time I lived my life.  It’s time I just be me.  I am not as perfect as I should be.  No one is as perfect as they should be.  It’s time I grow the fuck up and get on with my life.  Stop aiming admirable and just be.
So hear me now when I say that I tried my best.  That I tried and that is enough for me.  Where as most have dreamt, even secretly mapped out.. most have never tried.  I am done being uselessly patient.  I am done being ready.  I am this moment.  I am now.  I hold with me the knowledge and wisdom of many, with which I will command my life with a full breath and never apologize.
I am me.  And though my flower pedals have begun to wilt, and the pesticide I insistingly decline, I am just as beautiful as the rest.  I am just as imperfectly perfect as my being.  And I know now is the right time to see it.