I need to acknowledge that fine line between carefree and happy.

Petals of blue orchids are scattered on the surface of my bureau and on the floor around it. The plant is slouching now. The last gift of a distant love. Paint brushes soak in the same mucky water four days later. Clothes overflow in the laundry basket. Odors never escape these four walls. And a sealed box of condoms purchased a month ago, hides in a drawer and proves how cautious I really am. Will I be late? Perhaps.

I care. Clearly.

I am happy.