There lays a seed, packed inside a plastic bag to never see the light of day. It lay amongst its brethren, searching, seeking, and yearning for growth, development, and life. But if it were to live the life it wanted, what if the owner was a plant killer, or a smoker, or doesn't properly take care of them? How can they yearn for such a desolate life? Why do they crave a life they have never lived through? Where does any of this end?
He was given life.
His package was opened and planted into the very world he wanted. But soon after he started sprouting, he had many responsibilities. He needed water daily, sunlight every aching second, and oxygen to grow and become a fully blossomed flower.
Life didn't choose him.
His soul was thorned and bloody from every aching weave and leaf mended into his life. The way his petals were ripped away and nothing was left other than a useless stem and a broken heart. His vines intertwined with weeds and soil, but rocks smashed his roots. His thirst for freshness and gasping for air never seized during his stay in the garden. His succulent fruits, rotting away, and his nutrients were gated as if he were to never taste again. Hidden by covers and sheds, he never drank or basked in sunlight or rich rain causing him to wilt like every dead thing.
Why shall he live this way when he can reach for the sun, collect water, and move his roots? Because the way of life doesn't allow him to. His owners, purposefully forced him down, decapitating his heart, cutting his life, and isolating his mind. Where will it end? When does it stop? When will he live?
Never, because in this garden, nothing lives.
