MaliceInWonderland
How fine you look when dressed in Rage
I don't know why she adopted me, but she did. I was a lonely, withered little thing at the back shelf of a home improvement store. I had no sun, no water. I was left to die. I was so tired, and just wanted to sleep.
But she took me home with her, regardless. I think out of pity.
She replanted me in a proper pot with the best soil, watered me just right, gave me the most delicious food I've ever had, and set me in the window in the perfect spot of sun in her apartment. Every day she checked on me, did everything she could to save me. I found then that… maybe I didn't want to sleep anymore. Not when I could see her face every day. Not when she would sing me a song every day.
So I lived. I lived, and I thrived. I came alive again, just for her.
I did have some complaints, because none of us are perfect. She wasn't very clever in naming me 'Spike' but I tolerated it. Just like I tolerated when she put googly eyes on me. It was a bit humiliating, I'll admit. But I tolerated it, because her laughter was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. Her smile could light up the room more than my spot in the sun could.
Every morning she would greet me on her way to work. I enjoyed both how she looked fresh out of bed, disheveled, her hair looking rather like my own as she filled my area with the scent of coffee. I also enjoyed how she looked just before she left me to have my alone time; prim, proper. Well-groomed and smelling of perfume.
She would greet me again when she came home and made dinner as I sat and watched. I enjoyed seeing how she shed her layers to be more comfortable. How she spoke to me and told me of her day.
But one day, something happened. After speaking on the phone for a long time, she cried. She cried more than I had ever seen before, and I felt helpless. I could do nothing for her as she despaired over something I didn't know about or possibly understand. But for many days she cried alone, far away from me on the opposite side of our shared home. I would have sacrificed myself to soak up her salt-laden tears if I could, if it meant I could take her pain away. I would wear googly eyes every day for the rest of my life if it meant I could see her smile again.
So in order to try and help, I bloomed, just for her. My first bloom ever, my first created flower. For her.
When she noticed, it was the first time she had truly looked at me in days. She cried again, but this time, with a smile on her face. We touched for the first time that didn't result in her getting any of my prickles in her flesh, and she even leaned in to smell me. Our first kiss.
Things got a little better at a time after that. The tears came less and less, and eventually she was mostly back to her old self.
Then it was our first winter together, and though it was a bit too cold for me near the window, she made sure I still had access to the sun, and she even let me sit next to a small heater.
If that's not love, I don't know what is.
Eventually I survived one full year with her, and I don't have any plans to leave her anytime soon. I will continue to grow for her, to thank her for saving me. I hope that she knows I did my best to save her, too.
I am her cactus, and she is my human.
But she took me home with her, regardless. I think out of pity.
She replanted me in a proper pot with the best soil, watered me just right, gave me the most delicious food I've ever had, and set me in the window in the perfect spot of sun in her apartment. Every day she checked on me, did everything she could to save me. I found then that… maybe I didn't want to sleep anymore. Not when I could see her face every day. Not when she would sing me a song every day.
So I lived. I lived, and I thrived. I came alive again, just for her.
I did have some complaints, because none of us are perfect. She wasn't very clever in naming me 'Spike' but I tolerated it. Just like I tolerated when she put googly eyes on me. It was a bit humiliating, I'll admit. But I tolerated it, because her laughter was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. Her smile could light up the room more than my spot in the sun could.
Every morning she would greet me on her way to work. I enjoyed both how she looked fresh out of bed, disheveled, her hair looking rather like my own as she filled my area with the scent of coffee. I also enjoyed how she looked just before she left me to have my alone time; prim, proper. Well-groomed and smelling of perfume.
She would greet me again when she came home and made dinner as I sat and watched. I enjoyed seeing how she shed her layers to be more comfortable. How she spoke to me and told me of her day.
But one day, something happened. After speaking on the phone for a long time, she cried. She cried more than I had ever seen before, and I felt helpless. I could do nothing for her as she despaired over something I didn't know about or possibly understand. But for many days she cried alone, far away from me on the opposite side of our shared home. I would have sacrificed myself to soak up her salt-laden tears if I could, if it meant I could take her pain away. I would wear googly eyes every day for the rest of my life if it meant I could see her smile again.
So in order to try and help, I bloomed, just for her. My first bloom ever, my first created flower. For her.
When she noticed, it was the first time she had truly looked at me in days. She cried again, but this time, with a smile on her face. We touched for the first time that didn't result in her getting any of my prickles in her flesh, and she even leaned in to smell me. Our first kiss.
Things got a little better at a time after that. The tears came less and less, and eventually she was mostly back to her old self.
Then it was our first winter together, and though it was a bit too cold for me near the window, she made sure I still had access to the sun, and she even let me sit next to a small heater.
If that's not love, I don't know what is.
Eventually I survived one full year with her, and I don't have any plans to leave her anytime soon. I will continue to grow for her, to thank her for saving me. I hope that she knows I did my best to save her, too.
I am her cactus, and she is my human.
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