Dear, Dear Sunflower sitting on the top shelf in the corner of my apartment. You have sat there above my old tv for months like the loyal flower you are. You were the only thing in this goodness forsaken apartment left that was cheerful. Dear, you know how my depression gets me and puts me in a coma-like state for years, days, months, hours, minutes, seconds, weeks. But I look to you dear for happiness, a happiness that begins to creep in ever so slowly, imperceptibly, like light from a sunrise after an insomniac-tic night. Your cheerful yellow petals were all I ever needed.
Dear you know how I have worked to keep you with me while I have allowed other flowers to fall by the wayside. None of them compared to you. None of them made me feel the way you did. You would make me put you in new pots over and over again as you grew. You know how I hated the process. The disgusting feeling of dirt sticking to my fingers. The smell of the dirt after I had watered you. I could almost never water you enough. I think you have a serious addiction to water. You probably needed help, but it was help I couldn’t give you. And heaven knows I couldn’t afford a real gardener to come and help you out. So we muddled along. You have always been so patient with me, as I grumble and grab a stool so I can reach you. You know that asking me to climb up that stool and water you was practically like asking me to climb mount Kilimanjaro. But I did it for you.
Do you remember the time you fell off the shelf and broke your pot? You were so mad and I was so scared. I nearly lost you. What would I have done without you?
Don’t make me go back to those stupid, stuffy old fake plants I used to buy. For the longest time I wasn’t able to tell the difference between a fake flower and a real one. Now I can’t live without a real Sunflower my dear. I need the realness, the softness of your petals against my finger tips.
I can’t replace you with any other Sunflower my dear. You are the one who has captured my heart and soul. No other sunflower cheers me quite like you do.
Please, don’t kick the bucket, dear.