Don’t you know that nothing’s really ever beautiful.
— Eaj, Rose.
for once in my life, i’ve never felt butterflies in my stomach — not even once.
since i was a kid, it’s been told to me that whenever we like someone,
it’s there and it makes itself known.
but i never did, even though i’ve had a few crush
or when i fell in love twice here and there.
if i ever did, it’s probably just nausea building up out of anxiety.
the thought of insects flying around inside my stomach just sounds atrocious to me;
it’s disgusting and creepy.
who would want to feel a thousand flying insects inside their stomachs?
i would’ve vomit.
but the first and last time i fell in love, i felt my ribs and my organs tightened
especially my heart.
my lungs felt tight as well, as if it’s being crushed from the inside
— like the feeling of a tight hug.
so it came to me, if there are butterflies in the stomach,
there must be rose gardens in the heart and lungs, too;
it might be prickly, ticklish, and hard to breathe, but it will never try to escape and fly away for it blooms inside of you — the love grows inside of you;
in the most humane part of you.
Notes:
Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left; there are several stories where it’s stated that every person is born with seeds in their lungs waiting to bloom.
