Bloom or Explode

When asked to describe myself, I first thought of the word "bloom." I imagined the middle of the page opening and expanding into curls of paper, like petals. And there at the core is me, my essence.

But the reality of me is more like a bomb.

Like something terrifying got dropped onto the paper and blew it into tiny fragments. Every swear word and every fear just blowing up in our faces.

Most people would assume when the dust settles that there's nothing left. But there I am. Dusty and wounded, for sure, but still here.

Screaming "F*CK YOU!" to the world with both middle fingers up. "Is that all you got?"

(No, seriously - is this it? Because if so I have a big mess to clean up and I might as well start now. No time like the present to clean up everyone else's mess.)

Except the mess is me and every time I move I leave more mess behind.

So, I'm stuck and I'm angry and the mess is so off-putting.

I've read there are remote

parts of Japan where someone decided it was a good idea to bury fragments of nuclear bombs. Now the radiation has seeped out into the soil, poisoning everything. Entire villages are left in tact, completely uninhabitable.

Everyone had to leave in order to survive.

I don't know if I'm right about that. Can a bomb be right or wrong? Seems to me like it just "is."