A Flower Blooms Best In A Happy

I Am A Pretty, Useless Ornament Who Always Believed She'd Have A Man To Take Care Of Her.

Mine Are The Deep-seated Fears Established When We Are Children, And They Never Quite Go Away: The Fear Of Being Helpless, The Fear Of Being Trapped, The Fear Of Being Out Of Control.

My Thoughts Took Frantic Flight, Wanting To Escape This Prison, And Seek Out The Wind So It Could Fan My Hair And Sting My Skin, And Make Me Feel Alive Again.

A Flower Blooms Best In A Happy Pot.

Promises Are Lies Wrapped In Pretty Ribbons -cinnamon