I’m addicted to metaphors and I’ve started growing things

I bought an aloe vera plant cause I felt like I needed something in my life that grew bigger the more I gave and when broken could be used to soothe burns.
It’s stupid and not at all poetic,
how I liken myself to house plants,
to my mother’s frantic tidying around me while I sat passive in a chair not understanding her need for everything to look together.
It wasn’t like anything in our house was all together anyway.
It’s not poetic how I keep buying mugs cause I need something in my life to fill and drain as I see fit.
I’m addicted to metaphors and I’ve taken to planting things, diving my fingers into the soil and feeling it crumble.
I don’t know if any of these things will grow, I don’t know if I water them too much or too little, give them enough space or smother them.
There are seeds and prickly plants stuck into every corner of my life and it’s not poetic how I keep hoping they will make it through my care.  

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