I forgive other people but it’s hard to forgive yourself

The only person you will always have

Yet the person we give the least grace, empathy, love

We can ring out our souls for others but never for ourselves

Receive purple hyacinths but not once buy them to be placed in a vase on your own dining room table

I’m compassionate but am I really if I don’t show it to myself?

Pull back the curtains and make a play out of my unconditional self-love?

Maybe it’s because self-deprecation is in our nature; magnifying flaws instead of hidden talents

Today even if I can’t tomorrow, I will send myself hyacinths and will forgive my own apology.