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As spring settled in, I noticed an abundance of dandelions in my garden. I would call them flowers, in which my dad would correct me and say that they are weeds. I never corrected myself. I would blow on them gently and make a wish. I always wished for a dog. It’s ironic, now that my dog loves to eat dandelions.
He loves me. He loves me not.
I thought of that while making a wish. That, no matter how hard you want it to come true with every dandelion, only fate could tell. I pictured someone growing up with dandelions around them and false hopes in the form of wispy white flowers, praying for a love to work. Every relationship would fail, and they would only make more wishes, never realizing that it takes more than dandelions to find love.
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I have hazy midnight daydreams (though, in that case, I guess it’s called nightdreams). I described love as an endless chase into the horizon. Your lover will only fade into the sunset of yellow, orange, and red, untouchable yet almost at a hand’s grasp. I guess I thought that love could be forbidden.
This dream isn’t as vivid as it once was, mostly because I don’t believe in it as much as I used to. I saw a sunset, because sunsets are a beauty I never get tired of. I saw one person, because I loved them with my whole heart. Unlike sunsets, I grew tired of the one person on my mind, and they slipped away into a hazy midnight daydream.
I only have one picture that I could never forget. When they turn around and look at me, as they blend into the horizon. They seem so close, so warm, until they disappear into the sun. I know they said something – it’s on the tip of my mind – yet I don’t know for sure. I think they said goodbye.