prose on the concept of flowers in society
“Buckle your seatbelts, motherfuckers, cause in eight short pages I’m going to learn you a thing that I only myself learned two hours ago, so sit down shut up, and enjoy the experience of my 4-am-redbull-induced--self-hatred-fueled-writing-extravaganza”
“He was trapped in a city of woe. Whear beauty was backwards, and reality never wins. Flowers grow on patchy skins. To cover the sin of being “ugly”. No one knows how they come and grow. Only that the “ugliest” have the most. They are only deemed ugly by the city. A city so lost, that there perception of strength and beauty is clouded.”
Listen kids, I’m not trying to be your parents and tell you that the word is an amazing place, because it’s really not. What I’m here to do is to remind you that you can’t give up.
I sigh as I get out of the shower, there’s another flower. A small one in the middle of my chest. Even though it’s small, It’s still there. It makes me sad, because it brands me as “ not good enough”, and above all else, ugly. . What person wants to be branded as not good enough, and ugly. What am I to do about it though?
Just to throw it out there, I have 27 flowers. well 28 now. I have one above my left eyebrow. Two on my right jawline. Four in my hair. Three on my neck. Four on my cheeks. Three on my right ankle, and one on my left. The rest, but one, are scattered along my legs, arms, back, and chest. The last one I should mention is the one on my mouth. It binds my lips together, forever making me mute.
I got it when I was 13, Im 17 now. Long story short, I had stood up for my best friend. When she came out as queer, some boys bullied her. I felt so angry that I shouted at them, and threatened to beat them up. I didn't know it at the time but. standing up for your best friend is apparently not okay . She later told me it was not my problem, and that she didn't want to be seen with me. I was so different, and I was so unreserved that people didn’t want to be my friend.
No one knows where these flowers come from. Only that they mask what's ugly and forbidden. These flowers separate us from the beautiful. Small yellow flowers that dot our bodies like stars. They could be pretty if someone let them be.
When I was younger my grandmother, who also had an abundance of flowers, used to kiss them. She would tell me that the amount of flowers I had meant nothing to her. Sometimes she would let me take off my badge in her house, she was one of the few people that made me feel like the flowers didn’t matter. It was the best time period of my life. She died when I was ten. I didn't cry at her funeral, I thought that it would've made me look vulnerable.
Maybe I am vulnerable. Maybe we are all a little vulnerable. Maybe our flowers were meant to protect us, not defeat us. Maybe I’m just crazy, maybe I’m just insane. Am I supposed to have these ever so contradicting thoughts. Maybe it isn’t a bad thing that I’m mute. Maybe this flower is saving me from myself?
God I’m turning into a pessimist.
Group Homes For The Ugly
I moved a month later. I only mention me because everyone in my family is beautiful and im not. They sent me off to a camp that was suppose to help me “regain my beauty”. The kids who get sent there find out that, there is no way to remove our flowers. Soon we will all lose hope, because we find out that our parents just dumped us here. They are ashamed of their brightly flowered kids.
After “camp” ended, we were sent to live in homes. “Group homes for the ugly”. That’s what we call them. I’ve been in homes for so long that I don’t think of the kids here as just kids. We are a family of ugly people, very ugly people. Ugly people who love each other because our other families couldn't.
In all honesty I think my family is made up of beautiful people. Each with our own individual talents and flaws. I envy there talents for singing, drawing, and writing. I just wish I could tell them that. I wish I could tell them how much they are loved.
The people that the world claims are beautiful are cold hearted people. They don’t feel emotions. They are fake, and plastic, and I would get killed for saying these things out loud. That’s probably why my mouth is covered. I got muted, because I speak my mind. Spoke, my mind.
You would think that being muted would be some devastating trauma that would rock my entire life and I would never be the same. It was for a while, I just kind of got used to it though. As kids we are taught in school not to tie ourselves down emotionally. However, no matter how long they brainwashed us, it wasn’t successful for everyone.
Our house is brick with two levels. I live with six other kids, but we only have three rooms. Our “parents” only comes once a week. They are just people the government assigned to us so we don’t tear eachother apart. What they don’t realise is that we are an actual family. We will follow each other through thick and thin.
In our family we have four girls and three of us boys, and the girls always whoop our asses during game night. They drive a hard game, especially our youngest. She may look cute and friendly, but she’s so competitive that we nicknamed her beast.
Beast’s real name is Allyson, she’s 8 with 17 flowers. She’s is really good at sports and competition. The next up is Parker and Nova. They are 11 year old twins. Parker is a science nerd, and much like me he has a way with words. Nova has the voice of an angel.They both have twenty-three flowers, mysteriously enough they get them at the same time. Laina who is 16 has a deep passion for art. She also has forty-two flowers, the most out of all of us. In a sense she’s mom and I’m dad, except we are family and vowed never to date. Last, on our list is Alex. She is fourteen, with fourteen flowers. She gets one every year on her birthday. She’s also our jokester, from pranks to dad jokes she as it all.
We all pretty much get home schooled. Well by that I mean it’s all online. To be honest that’s the only thing that the government can’t take from us. Well that and books, I find that I read a lot. Last year for christmas Parker got me tons of books. I don’t know how he managed to get his hands on them, but he did.
Are We Not the Only Ones?
On this planet we are not alone. We have a partner race. With a beauty system backwards from ours. We are the flora they are the fauna. We never see them. The take up the wooded have of the world. Most homes for ugly kids are set on the border of our two races. Form what I’ve seen they're not that different from us. For the exception of there fauna.
They are humanoid beings, much like ourselves. They however are more animal like. With ears and tails, sometimes noses like earth animals. For reasons our society looks down on them too. There was a war, the elders said. They fought like “the animals they truly are”, and tore us apart.
We have been taught all our lives that they are savages. To be treated lower than us overly flowered citizens. To be truthful, we overly flowered citizens don’t get treated like full citizens. We are denied in many ways. We are oppressed.
Because of my flowers I can’t be served at most restaurants. Some of us are denied at movie theaters, and other recreational places. We can’t go out without being stared at, it’s as if we can control our ugliness. It doesn't help that we have badges that constantly track our flowers. It’s law to wear them, no exceptions. Sometimes I feel as if we have a plague, and they are branding us as dangerous.
Years of studies prove that, I am, we are not contagious. Just to give you some more info on our jacked up system. 50 flowers revokes you're right to vote, and 60 means you get exiled into the fauna domain. I just hope that I don’t reach that .
Into The Wild
Now please remember that I am mute, not deaf. Also, in that time of introspective thinking, I am already dressed and ready to go. I pull my hood up and walk out the door. Breathing in the “sweet suburban air” that people seem to crave so much. Honestly I don’t know what's so sweet about it. I set out for the outdoor market.
“ Hey it’s one of you ugly flower kids!!” I roll my eyes. “Ignoring me, ay.” He moved closer and I smelled alcohol on his breath. Good grief a drunken idiot. “That’s okay, but you know if I were in charge, I would get rid of all you ugly nuisances.” His badge read five flowers. I walked away slowly, and then broke into a run. I heard him yell “29 is an ugly number kid.”
29! I checked my badge. 29, really is an ugly number. I keep running. I put my head down and draw my hood tighter so that no one can see me cry. If it weren't for the fact that we needed more food I would have just gone home.
I cut across the street not bothering to use the crosswalk. Crosswalks are for law abiding losers. Just kidding, I should probably be a bit more safe. It probably wouldn't matter anyways. At the rate my flowers are growing I will be exiled.
Damn, I can’t be exiled. I have the kids to take care of , I have a life to live.