🤷

“I don’t want to stick out like a weed in a field of wildflowers”

What I’ve always felt,

Whether I voiced it as such or not

But maybe this is a new beginning

Beginning to learn and yet sit in the comfy acceptance of unknowing

Flowers,

I’ve always loved flowers

Wildflowers are _beautiful_

But what is a wildflower?

Maybe this is the beginning of looking around instead of searching

Looking at those growing around me

Wildflowers grow on their own,

So do weeds.

Wild, free

Some beautiful things are weeds:

Daises, dandelions

And as I begin to look around

I realize that maybe

I might be a weed

But I am a dandelion in a field of other yellow petalled ‘wish flowers’

I am no thistle among orange and purple wildflowers

If I stand out, I add.

I add to the bouquet

And if I can’t fit in the bouquet,

Maybe we’re not the same type of wild

I am unsure.

I do not know every truth.

But now I am learning to trust,

Trust myself

My feelings

“I don’t want to stick out like a weed in a field of wildflowers”

But I am learning that didn’t mean what I thought

A wildflower sticks out in a pile of stones.

Anything, _anyone_, could stick out, be too wild, be out of place

But in my patch of weeds, pile of stones, or field of wildflowers,

I feel loved

That’s what I know