I feel like I am a houseplant.

Some days the

roots in my home are enough. Knowing I exist, I am stable, I am planted. It’s enough.

Some days, some water. Sometimes a spray, others a cup. The love of others I need to get through that day, or this week.

Sometimes I wake up with a new leaf. I like it at the start but then I notice I stretch for validation, confirmation, assurance and attention. Like my fig leaf reaches for the sun. I’m reaching for approval. Often from others who might burn me in the end.

Right now I wish I was dormant. Wake me up in January 2021.