Roses or wild flowers

There once was a little wild flower, growing by a humble creek. It often wished it could be like the rose. The rose was beautiful and majestic. People gushed and admired the rose. The rose was always put first because it was so lovely. The rose looked down on the wild flower because the sun didn't shine as brightly on it. The wild flower lived under some weeds that were keeping it from growing.

One day, the wild flower realised that roses only last a short time. People looked at them and loved them for their beauty. Then the wildflower asked: after roses wilt and die what's left? The rose can't bring anyone pleasure after the newness wears off. People get tired of picking up rose petals after they fall.

Suddenly, the wild flower realised, "I grow because I'm special. God made me a survivor. To show other flowers I can grow even among weeds. When the roses try to forget me, I'm still here, and people love me too. I don't need any fancy crystal vase to live in, to be me." To no surprise, the wild flower struggled and became the strongest, most beautiful flower. It never gave up. Everyone said it was the best one out of that bunch... of flowers.

Some people like being judged by what's on the outside and can get by with being selfish and cruel, while others are beautiful not only on the outside but more importantly, on the inside.

It's a pity some people do nice things only to look like a rose, always demanding respect. If they were just happy being a weed or a wild flower the sun would still shine on them. There's room for everyone in the garden.