I never considered myself to be
a flower. I was always plain, a weed
in everyone else’s flowerpots,
a weakling, a sprout that never
quite received enough sun to
grow. People would tell me I was
wrong, to see myself how everyone
else did, but nothing changed.
I was a barren countryside,
a meadow scorched after
a wildfire, though everyone
around me was vibrant.
Then, out of the blue, I began
to notice the details. which
had seemed mundane. I started
to see the colors in myself,
and the sunlight began
to stream through my blood.
I never considered myself to be
a flower—but now I think I do.


By Jordan Prochnow