when will i
get to bloom too?
This is a weed.
And it holds every child’s hopes and dreams.
"Weed" is a word for "plant I don’t know how to do anything with yet." But weeds, as a rule, are successful species. Because they can grow anywhere and they can live through anything.
So can you.
Be a weed. Grow, adapt, flourish, and don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks of you because of how pretty or useful you are. You are. That is enough.
Dude. Have you ever read Robert Fulghum’s piece on dandelions? No? You can read it here. And I encourage you to remember a point he makes as you do, and as you go forward:
The flowers we prize the most are fucking useless. They’re status symbols. There’s a flower with “lobes” (it’s so huge it literally does not have petals) that weigh 15 pounds each and it smells like rotting ass. It has no known use in the ecosystem. But because it’s rare, we protect the shit out of it. Men wearing gas masks to survive around it guard it.
But “weeds?” You know those little green plants that grow in the northeast US in the grass that have teensy purple flowers in them, and if you pull the flowers out and bite the ends it tastes like sugar? When I was a Girl Scout we were told you could nibble on those to cure headaches, and it works. Dandelions have about a million uses. Wild daisies can be used to treat coughs and asthma. Wild raspberry plants? There is nothing in the entire world, my fellow country kids can attest to this, that tastes better than getting off the schoolbus and seeing that the raspberries are ripe and picking them, sunwarm and black and full and juicy and tart and sweet, straight from the bush, bursting them on your tongue and letting your mouth fill with flavor no candy could hope to beat and domestic raspberries can’t touch.
I’d rather be a wild raspberry bush—tough and maybe a little prickly, making my own way and filling days with joy—than any hothouse rose. I’d rather be a dandelion, resilient and useful and a little bit magic, than somebody’s prize orchid. And I sure as hell would rather be a daisy—soothing and curing, so pretty in a wreath for your best friend’s hair—than a prized flower with lobes that no bee will touch.
Don’t be afraid to be a weed. They’re really the best plants of all.