Everyone admires me for my beauty, for the fresh, bright colour that I add to their lives. Some people notice the crinkled cut of every petal, some people notice the layers of petals that guard a secret, but almost none realise the sadness of being a pretty thing, sentenced to a day in a vase. Cut apart from my roots, trimmed to perfection. My job is to look pretty, to look enticing and to look rich. My job is to sit here, in this fresh water, in an expensive crystal vase while people hover around in their perfect clothes and expensive jewelry.
Sure, they’ve left a speck of green around me, but that’s not for me. That’s just to make sure that the green brings out the deep deep red of my petals. While I sit here and observe the fake conversations, one by one, every drop of moisture will get sucked out of me. The fresh water, it will start smelling foul. In a few days, each one of my petals will grow darker, much like the shadows within my layers. And then, and then I will be tossed out. I won’t be pretty enough for the crystal vase. That’s my fate…
The leaves warned me. They told me a rugged hand would pick me one day and they told me to pray. “So much as a tiny bruise and the woman will throw you out,” the leaves warned me. What choice did I have but to pray! I hoped that the rugged hands would handle me gently. I hoped that the other flowers wouldn’t crowd me. I hoped to have space for my petals to breathe and I hoped that I bloomed at the right time, so that the owner of the vase couldn’t resist me.
Why such agony and terror over being tossed in the trash? I may get my two days in the crystal vase, but don’t I have to end up in the trash anyway? My existence makes people happy. They feel good to see me. I am presented on happy occasions. The truth is, within the deep bright folds of red, I guard my sadness. I hide my agony, just so I look cheerful enough to avoid the trash for a few moments. Everybody wants a happy flower, wilted flowers are for tombs.
Picture by @nomadwanderer (http://www.flickr.com/photos/kaurwakee)