It's the last day of February, yet again an end to another month.

I feel unaccomplished. I feel like I haven't done anything worthy of being called an "accomplishment" this month. I watched things slip away, barely clawing after them in a lame attempt to slow down the deterioration.

I was reminded again why I dislike flowers. They make me happy, at least at first. My fresh-picked wildflowers plucked from the flower beds of houses I pass by when I'm walking home from school are wilting. The pot of roses I bought from Trader Joe's has started to wither and the fresh yellow petals are starting to fade despite making sure they see the sun every day along with meticulous watering. In the end they all die anyway. Perhaps this is why that despite the initial happiness that flowers afford me, no one gives me flowers anyhow, probably due to my unhealthy attitude towards the stages when they start to wilt and eventually die.

It seems like a general problem with my outlook on things in life. I'm always looking at the endpoint, the conclusion, or even just the intangible things-in-the-future. The damn flowers are going to die anyway. Why can't I just take things for what they're worth and enjoy them while they last?