Symbolism

I've been keeping it. For quite some time now, I've been keeping it. The rose that had been given to me during valentine's day, on top of a white paperback, a million little pieces. I remember when I saw it, I screamed. It sounded like something from a horror movie =.=", so I tried again...and again...and again... and everyone was staring at me dumbly. One last time? Again. No, it didn't work. It still sounded like something from a horror movie. Maybe it was meant to sound that way.

And now, that single rose I have kept out of the 4 which had been given to me, ( FINE, it isn't a lot =.=") had died. Well, technically, it had died a long time ago, but it was kept intact by a million little pieces. Until now. This day, which I chose to stand up and face life one more time, this day was the day the rose chose to give up, shedding its petals, which resembled greatly the color of blood.

I'm moving on. Attempting to put every one of these million little pieces back into place. The Old Man said it was broken beyond repair, but no. As much as I can, I'm putting them back. Myself. I want myself back.

And along with these million little pieces, are a few more of what i've done in the past few weeks. When you decide to live through, you'd find that there are so much more things to learn, so much more lessons in life to acquire. So when I finish putting these million little pieces back into place, I'm gonna be a better person. No, I definitely won't know everything, or pretend to know everything. But what I do know is that I know more. I have learned, and what I have learned, I shall use. And I would not be as scared, or shy, or distant as I was before. I would be new and improved, but still me. And no one is ever gonna change that.

But I still keep it. A stalk without a rose. With only a mere few leaves to remind one of its former beauty. Hope.