by Jean Aunry
A little thing I wrote 2 years back. It's about as dramatic as a teenager gets.
|You know, I don't get it. I have been given this flower to look after and to make it bloom.. I did the usual stuff. I searched for a sunny place, I watered it periodically. Everything a person does to make a flower feel good. After three weeks, however, I noticed that the flower didn't bloom. I was wondering and thinking. Did I do something wrong? So, I set out for flower-specialists. They should be able to help me, right? They told me all these weird things to get the flower to bloom. I should play music, read it poetry, give it a special mix of nutritions. And I did. I did everything. I spent hours playing the flower the finest of classical music. I searched for the best poems high and low and developed a special voice to make the flower resonate. I spent my money on all the best mixes available. It didn't work. Nothing worked. Why should it? And now I am sitting here, without money, emotionally drained and at the last bit of my power. So I went onto the street and gave it to the next stranger who looked friendly. But in the end I learned one thing. While if something's worth having, it's at least worth fighting for, not every fight is to be won.|