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Life in the garden was beautiful. In the midst of the fresh air, the sun and the morning dew caressed our leaves, and our roots spread out far and wide through the rich, luscious soil. There was a being that would take care of us, that protected us from creatures that would gnaw our leaves, and could make it rain in a cloudless sky.
I already knew my days were numbered, like all those who withered and fell before me. One day the being had chosen me and severed me at the stem with sharp shears, like the reaper's sickle, as I knew from that moment forward that I had begun to die.
I was abducted and dehorned, taken farther than I had ever dreamt of growing, until we were walled in somewhere, blocking the open air and sunlight. The next thing I knew, I was trapped in a glass cylinder, half drowning in water. I was alone in a strange place, and knew I would likely never see my family or the garden again. There was nothing I could do, other than desperately reach for the bits of light that entered the room.
I missed the feel of my roots in the ground, the soil and it's nutrients - but the being always made sure to give me fresh water. They cared for me, and talked to me often. Soon, they became my everything. I breathed in the very air they breathed out, and felt I would suffocate without them.
I didn't have to understand what they were saying to know that we had both suffered. I understood them better than anyone had, and it seemed I was there for them when no one else was.
It all made sense now. Life in the garden was beautiful, but there was no point. Now, I had a purpose. That purpose was to be there for this greater being, in any way, no matter how small. The being would tell me their sorrows, gripping my stem between their giant appendages, and I often felt I would break, but I stayed strong, for it was my only duty.
There was one word they uttered over and over, that I learned quickly - "Shuu". It was all the being seemed to care about. It was all they wanted, and it caused them great distress. I felt helpless, knowing there was nothing I could do. It was foolish of me to think that I could ever come close to filling such a void.
Deep down, I knew I would never mean as much to the being as they meant to me. I was only a rose. A fleeting moment in their life, and one of many. Yet I cherished our every moment spent together, knowing it would end soon.
As time passed, I felt myself starting to wilt. My petals began to fall, no matter how much I tried to keep myself together for the being. Some fell on their own, others they had stripped away. Soon there were none. I felt vulnerable and exposed. I was only a stem, barely alive. I was ugly. I was unlovable.
The being picked up the pieces of my disheveled body. I savored the feeling of them holding me, as I sensed that this time would be the last. Suddenly, I felt the fresh air and the sunlight, a feeling I had nearly forgotten, and for a brief moment I felt alive again.
Then my body was discarded in a bin, atop a pile of dead leaves and compost in the garden, and engulfed in darkness.
I could finally rest.
I used to miss the sun, the soil, and the air, but now my only hope was that the being might remember our brief time together, and be comforted by it.
You were my everything.
I hope I served my purpose well.