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Garden of a Child

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Dave was sitting on his bed, his shirt thrown to the side. He had a pair of scissors in hand, and was currently doing one of his daily chores. Cutting off the flowers/flower buds that were growing in his body. He briefly remembers the time when Rose asked why he didn't just let the flowers grow and fall off naturally. For starters, they don't fall off ever naturally. Ever. He learned that from his dad, who was also suffering from the same unfortunate condition. The buds just wiggle their way out of your skin like its some sci-fi movie and start to bloom. When they're fully bloomed, they stay that way. Secondly, it was hella uncomfortable to wear clothes when you have flowers underneath them. It also made the clothes look weird on you, and people would ask questions that you don't neccesarily want to answer. Lastly, you tend to get a bunch of odd looks when you have flowers growing from your neck and face. Well, you still tend to get some odd looks because of the weird scars that the flowers leave behind, but people will either tend to assume that its a skin condition or a scar. The scars are just fucked up enough that people will know that some bad shit happened and that you probably don't want to talk about it. But, if you have flowers, they look at you strange. They look at you funny. They look at you like you're some freak. Someone they should stay away from. Dave didn't want to be a freak, he just wanted to be normal like everyone else. He wanted to be cool. Like John.

 

He sighed, and resumed to snip off the flowers, having gotten lost in thought. Dave was currently working on his left arm. Daisies grew there. He had already researched the meaning of the flowers that grew on him a long time ago, when they first started appearing. Daisies mean innocence, they mean loyal love, they mean purity. Well, Dave guesses that it was correct in a way, because he was innocent, or ignorant, of his sexuality until he facetimed John motherfucking Strider for the first time. Dave resumed to snip off the daisies on his left arm, and then his right. He's glad that they aren't cluttered in tight bunches, that there isn't a lot of them to snip off. He then starts to work on his chest, one of the cluttered areas. Gardenias and Forget-Me-Nots grew there, liking to cluster around his heart. Dave hated that, he hated that he could feel their tiny roots in his veins, in his skin, slowly crawling their way into his heart. Gardenias... He was pretty sure that they meant secret love, and that forget-me-nots meant true love. Way to fucking call him out, flowers. He's practically wearing a callout on his body at all times. Dave tends to get a bit messier when it comes to cutting these flowers, it being much harder to cut them all individually since they're so clumped together. So, he cuts many at a time. He's glad that he started with his back, because that is where it was a bitch to snip off the flowers. Yellow hyacinths grow on his upper back, mimicking the gardenias and forget-me-nots. Marigolds grew down lower, below his shoulder blades. They meant jealousy and cruelty respectively. Dave guessed that the marigolds meaning cruelty were another callout, him being cruel to himself. The yellow hyacinths were obvious about yheir meaning.

 

Dave took off his pants, his shorts, to work on his legs. Bluebells. Humility. He guesses that could be referencing many things, him being humble about his crush, him being humble about his appearance, or whatever. There weren't many on his legs this time. Dave then mentally prepared himself, and went to work on the flowers around his junk. Orange lillies. Hatred. Yeah, the flowers weren't being subtle there. He fucking hated his dick, and hated the dysphoria that came with it. He would much rather be an blob down there, like a Barbie doll. When he was finished, Dave put back on his pants, and went to work yet again. This time, on his neck. He hoped that he wouldn't bleed this time. Stupid daffodils, telling him what he already knows. He knows that John would never fucking love him, would never return his feelings. He blinked away the tears as he tried his best to remain as still as possible. Dave wondered why he always got emotional during this. Probably because he thinks about the flower's meanings and what they're talking about, like a dumbass. Stupid flowers.

 

After finishing the work on his neck, and getting a bandaid for the one that bled, Dave felt relief at the fact that he was almost done. He just had to cut the roses on his temples, them somewhat crawling around his eyes. Grace and joy. Yeah, he sure felt fucking joyful. The white roses mean innocence, yet again, and secrecy. Dave felt called out again, as he has no plans whatsoever to tell John his crush. Or any of his online friends. Except for Jade. Jade figured out, in the weird way that she does. But he couldn't bring himself to mind that. She certainly knows how to keep a secret, and kinda knows what he's going through. Plus, she was his best friend. He didn't really feel right keeping secrets from his best friend.

 

Dave finished cutting off the roses on his head, and put back on his square sunglasses, along with his shirt. Oh, he had a notification on his computer from pesterchum. Two, actually. He decided to click on the notifications from the memo he was invited to, and immeaditely regretted it. John was talking about his recent date with Rose, and sent pictures. Dave felt his heart ache, and quickly went to the other notification. Turns out, Jade was trying to warn him about the memo, saying things along the lines of 'Dave just leave the fucking memo, don't even read it. Our crushes went on a date yet again." A warning that came just a bit too late.