She keeps the dead plants in their pots to remind her that she’s still living.
They’re dead and dried and curled up on themselves, but they remind her that even in the best conditions, things just die anyway.
She looks at the dead plants on her window sill and remembers to live her life to the fullest, never letting fear or inadequacy scare her.
She breaks barriers, and creates without question.
She lives, but the plants, just like parts of the old her, are still dead.
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