Love

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in and out.

As every living organism does, we take that hold of life in us in order for us to live, that's what we do. A common denominator for every single living thing. If you don't breathe, you are seen as good as dead. Nothing but a shell of what once was a living and thriving speck of life now unmoved, dead, and a corpse.

But we often see things in a different manner, some would argue that what about eating? All living organisms eat to live and thrive, don't they? And what about drinking? Don't all living organisms crave for water to supplement themselves and quench their thirst?

Indeed, breathing, eating, and drinking are all essential for every living organism to thrive and prosper, it is so for them to live and make history for themselves. From the humongous elephant that bathes in the muddy water, to your pet cat that purs whenever you scrub its tiny chin, even down to the speck of living microorganisms that live unseen and unheard around us, around you.

But what if I told you there's a hidden dark horse of a common denominator that every living organism shares? Sure these examples are essential and every living creature big and small shares this behavior, eating, drinking, and breathing, but that all depends on specifics. An example would be drinking, not all living organisms drink water, right?

Now, what would this secret dark horse of a common denominator be you may ask? Well, that is, of course, love.

Every creature great and small has had encounters of love and its many forms. That is how we grow, that is how we thrive, that is how we prosper.

Don't tell me you haven't had any encounters with love.

I strongly doubt that.

—And as the peculiar human dressed in mustard yellow summer dress continues to lecture the many children around her, a rose bush in the corner continues to listen. Its interest in this so-called love has suddenly peaked.

Once upon a not-so-distant time, in a park near the bustling streets of a seashore town, lived a rose bush, ever so beautiful yet ever so quiet. For you see, it was lonely, as the rose bush was the only one of its kind in the area, the only bush that grows beautiful and aromatic roses. Sure you have the poppies, the daisies, and the orchids spread around the park, but a rose bush, there was only but one. But there was one problem, the rose bush could not grow a single rose and had just been a bush all throughout the years.

When the rose bush was young and naive, it did not occur to it that the rose bush had no one but itself. The rose bush scanned its surroundings and saw that every flower-bearing plant had its significant others beside them. These pairs would dance all day and all night until eventually, all that dancing bore fruit to beautiful flowers.

The humans would flock around them giving them compliments after compliments, which gave every single one of them joy and satisfaction. Some humans would pick the flowers off of the plants and would play with them, wear them, or just sniff them with huge wide smiles plastered on their faces. This in turn would make the plant of which the flowers the human picked had come from, happy and satisfied to see the humans enjoying their fruits of love.

The young rose bush had seen everything and felt left out, it too wanted the compliments the humans would give to the other plants, it too wanted to feel happy and satisfied to see the humans play with its flowers, so the rose bush danced.

The rose bush did not care that it doesn't have a partner to dance along with nor does it have the urge to wait around till that time comes. The rose bush danced and danced, every day, every night, till dusk, till dawn, it had danced.

The persistence of the rose bush caught the attention of its good friend, the daisy, and its neglectful partner.

"Darling look at our dear friend the rose bush." The daisy had called out to its partner who was busy watching four old men shooting a round and bouncy object to a hoop placed a couple of feet above their heads.

"Poor thing had been like that since last spring, it did not even rest during the coldest of winter." The daisy had continued.

"Pay it no mind honey, if the rose bush dies, then it'll die. That is not our problem." The daisy's partner replied and went back to its soil, turned, and fixated itself on the four old men and their peculiar way of entertainment.

The daisy looks at its partner and felt sorry for itself, how can she marry such an organism with no heart? The daisy could not believe that this neglectful plant with no compassion is its partner till the very end. The daisy shrugged off its partner and extended itself, brush off the excess dirt that clung to her, and went towards its dear friend. It could not bear to see a friend suffer any longer.

"Oh dear friend, what are you doing?" The daisy introduced itself, her voice was warm and inviting. She was looking up and down at the rose bush to assess its condition and to see if it had gone mad.

The daisy plant could not believe what her eyes had seen, all of the rose bush's leaves were withering and turning brown, its stems were fragile and weak, a slight gust of win would break off all of its stems, and its roots were uprooted, scattered all around itself due to the constant dancing the rose bush had been doing.

The rose bush turned around and gave the daisy a faint smile. Due to exhaustion and its current state, it's the only smile the rose bush can give.

"I am in the process of bearing flowers, of roses, my dear friend," It said.

The daisy plant paused for a moment, her heart was heavy, full of emotions. She took a quick but deep breath and full of sympathy for her friend, the daisy shook its head and said, "Dear friend, that is not how it is to be."

The rose bush tilted itself and quivered, "What do you mean?"

"Had no one told you? Flowers bloom out of love from two plants. Without a partner, essentially no love, you are nothing but a plant with leaves and stems."

"You can't grow flowers all by yourself."

From that point on, a shadow enveloped the once vibrant rose bush, casting an indelible mark upon its very essence. The radiance that once emanated from its being had dimmed. No longer did it sway with the gentle rhythm of life, its delicate movements resembling a melancholic stillness that echoed through the park. The whispers that once flowed between the rose bush and its botanical companions fell silent, as if severed by an invisible barrier, leaving it isolated amidst the vibrant tapestry of nature. It had stopped taking in sunlight, sustenance, and connection, the rose bush languished, its vitality drained, and its spirit extinguished. Hope, once an iridescent flame within its core, now lay dormant, buried beneath the weight of desolation within itself. In the absence of that flickering light, the rose bush ceased to truly live, to truly feel, to truly be alive, a haunting reminder of dreams unfulfilled and aspirations untended.

The darkness grew inside the rose bush, all the spite, all the hatred, and the jealousy seeing all of the other plants with their partners dancing, the sounds of life became a nuisance to it. The rose bush wanted to grow flowers but instead, it grew rows of sharp thorns on itself, living a life full of jealousy, hatred, and anger.

Until one day, a group of children, accompanied by a peculiar human dressed in a yellow summer dress arrived at the park unexpectedly. They sat under the tall and stupendous sycamore tree at the left corner of the park where the diverse and colorful orchids reside.

"Look alive!" The peculiar human howled, prolonged the word alive for dramatic effect.

"For the sun has awoken! Look alive a brand new day has arrive!" The children called back in unison to the peculiar human with a pitch so high only young children could reach. This awoke all the plants from all over the park. They extended their stems and yawn, some cursed under their breath, while some went back to sleep.

The rose bush, which was already awake, rolled its eyes and buried itself deep into the soil.

"It is too early for an early headache. What a nuisance." The rose bush had said to itself. To ensure no human could bother the rose bush, the naughty plant extended its sharp thorns.

"A pleasant morning to you my dearest young learners of science."

"A pleasant morning to you too, Ms McAdams!"

The rose bush, although already deep into the soil below, somehow could still hear the humans above. The rose bush groaned and buried itself even further down below. It had no interest to hear any noise nor any sound whatsoever, the rose bush just wanted complete silence and to be alone.

"Now, what would this secret dark horse of a common denominator would be, you may ask?"

"What is it, Ms. McAdams?"

"Well, that is of course."

"Love"

The rose bush, upon hearing the word love, quickly crawled up and came out of the soil to listen. It had seemed to the rose bush that this was its solution to its timely dilemma.

"Every creature great and small has encounters of love and its many forms."

"Love has many forms?" The rose bush had wondered.

As if on cue, the peculiar human spoke seemingly answering the rose bush's question, "Why of course, love has different forms."

"Love can come from your partner, it can come from your friends to your family, even from your cousins, pets, your friendly neighbor, and even from a stranger." The peculiar human spoke.

"Love can also come from within. From you, to you, for you."

In a sudden revelation, the rose bush was struck by a profound epiphany. After years of misguided longing and unfulfilled desires, the truth unfurled before it. The rose bush came to realize that the emotions it had mistaken for love during the time of its graceful dances of yesteryears were, in fact, a desperate yearning for love itself—an eagerness that bordered on envy and bitterness when confronted with other plants adorned with vibrant blooms. The very essence of the flower had become an embodiment of the love it yearned for but could not attain, fueling a bitter insecurity that clouded its heart and mind. Blinded by this negativity, the rose bush had failed to perceive the obvious solution to its plight—the necessity of self-love. In order to flourish and blossom with beautiful flowers, the rose bush needed to cultivate a profound love and acceptance of itself.

Once the day turned into the night, as everyone was asleep and everything went dark, the rose bush came out of the soil, it had clung to a speck of hope that had emerged in itself upon learning of the discovery earlier. The rose bush gazed upon the stars above and begged for everything in of itself, "Please, let this be it. For once in this hopeless life, let me feel happy."

With a heavy heart, the rose bush began to dance but this time the rose bush did not rush into every movement its body make, instead with every flow and every move the rose bush felt every of it. It poured all of its emotions, all of its pain, and all of its tears, at the last second the rose bush breathed and paused, suspended in a moment of profound stillness.

"With this light, with this hope, illuminate me from the darkness that surrounds me. Grant me the very essence I yearned and prayed for, grant me a purpose, happiness, and most of all, grant me love." With a final stroke of movement, the rose bush took out the tiny speck of hope it had within itself, the tiny light it had clung on to, and gave it to the stars above. With a heavy heart, the rose bush succumbed to its heavy eyelids and drifted off to sleep.

As the morning sun bathed the world in its golden embrace, the rose bush awoke from its slumber, a sudden tingling sensation coursing through its being. Casting its gaze downwards, it beheld a wondrous sight—a solitary patch of vibrant purple emerging from its chest. At that moment, the rose bush was struck with a profound realization within itself, the soulful dance it had performed under the moonlit sky the night before had borne fruit, unveiling a delicate bud that exuded an ethereal beauty. Nestled amidst a fortress of thorns, the tiny marvel captivated the senses with its breathtaking allure. Its scent, like a siren's call, unfurled on the gentle breeze, weaving its way through the park's expanse, rousing the sleeping verdure from their slumber.

Curious about what could be the alluring fragrance that awoke them, numerous plants followed the scent and arrived in front of the rose bush who cradled the flower gently on its twig arms. The rose bush met the numerous gaze that surround it and smiled, a genuine happiness radiated on its face, this made the numerous vegetation worry, it had been so long since they last saw that smile on the rose bush that it made them wonder if the rose bush had truly lost its mind and senses.

"Rose bush, are you the cause of that alluring scent that gathered us?" The curious and inquisitive oak tree bent down and spoke.

"Oh dearest friends, look! I have done it, I have truly done it!" It had exclaimed.

All the vegetation leaned forward and look in on the rose bush, curious as to what got it excited. All of their eyes collectively fixated on the tiny purple bloom of which it extended itself out to the audience as if it was saying "hello" to them, and all of their jaws were wide agape, they couldn't believe what they were seeing!

"What?"

"When?"

"How did this happen?"

The rose bush was bombarded with numerous questions, but the rose bush hushed all of them with a quick and simple word, "Humans!"

As if on cue, dozens of humans entered the park, and all of the plants quickly scrambled away and went back to their original places. The rose bush looked on, thrilled for the humans to see its flower.

"I've given everything for this flower to exist, I hope they would love it just as much as I do." The rose bush monologed and patiently waited for a human, a single human to come and see its rose.

"Honey look, isn't that a rose bush?" A man wearing a funny hat that resembles a bunny said to a woman eating a pink fluffy cotton candy. The man jogged toward the rose bush and the woman followed right behind him, their shoes clicked on the hard cement.

"They're coming towards me! They're gonna see my rose! They're coming!" The rose bush smiled, bursting with happiness and excitement. The man, who was ahead, stopped in front of the rose bush and stared at it.

"Hmm, only one flower? That's unfortunate, I thought it was rose season this time of the year." He mumbled under his breath. The man leaned down at the rose bush which was too clouded with happiness and excitement that it didn't even realize what was about to happen.

All of a sudden, the rose bush felt a sharp deep pain, a pain so excruciating it had felt all the way to its roots. The rose bush fixed its gaze on the human man and saw that he had plucked its only flower out of its body. The woman caught up and stood behind the man who was still kneeling down, the man stood up and gave the rose to the woman as a loving present.

"Honey look, a flora to my fauna." The man giggled.

The woman took the rose and looked at it. She then looked at the man in front of him and rolled her eyes. She dropped the flower on the ground and said, "You call that a flower? It hasn't even bloomed yet."

The woman then turned around and walked away. The man followed her and unknowingly stepped on the flower with its boots, crushing it.

"And did you just call me an animal?" The woman quipped she had wrapped her around herself as she walked away out of the park, and the man followed behind him, laughing.

The rose bush could not believe what just happened, in an instant, disbelief gripped the rose bush's fragile heart as waves of joy, excitement, and light went away, dissipating like a wisp of ethereal dust. Its once vibrant gaze fixated upon the crushed remains of its cherished rose, the fragile bud that had barely tasted the breath of life before being cruelly stolen away. With an instinctive resilience, the rose bush extended its roots, writhing and crawling across the unforgiving coldness of the pavement, it wailed in pain, desperate to cradle the fallen flower within its tender embrace. It had scooped up the flower and held it in its arms. Returning to its soil, it clung to the remnants of the blossom, tears cascading from its boughs as if the very essence of its existence wept in mournful chorus. It had taken the rose bush years to have that rose, it had gone through thick and thin of its floral life and felt every possible pain imaginable to gain a single flower, yet life itself was too cruel and took that away from the weeping rose bush. Days blended into nights, weeks merged into months, and still, the rose bush cried and cried, its sorrow remained an unyielding tempest, enveloping its spirit in an unrelenting storm of grief. It had lost hope, it had lost everything. In the depths of this profound loss, hope faded into obscurity, while the weight of despair consumed every fiber of its being, leaving it bereft of purpose and stripped of all that it held dear. Even the stars above, with their distant twinkle, seemed powerless to offer solace, unable to help the rose bush from being truly happy. The surrounding plants, tried their all to help the grieving plant but no single word, vowel, or even a single noise could ever fill the void of which the rose bush had within it. Unable to move on, thus the rose bush succumbed to its grief and slowly died a slow, agonizing death and withered away. The gardeners noticed the rose bush dead, and swiftly took out a shovel and uprooted the plant. The plants at the park couldn't do anything only but witness their friend's withering corpse being tossed in the trash, wheeled away, never to be seen again. The soil of which the rose bush had become nothing but a haunting tale of a rose bush that wanted nothing more than love and to be loved.

A year later, the slumbering plants awoke from their seasonal dormancy, only to be greeted by a mesmerizing spectacle that stirred their collective senses. For in the tender care of the gardeners, a new rose bush had been carefully placed, bearing an uncanny resemblance to their dear departed friend. It didn't dawn on the plants at the park that the rose bush was indeed their late friend, somehow alive, somehow not remembering anything that had happened a year ago, and somehow reliving the same exact circumstances it had lived prior, like a sick cycle of life, death, and love.