A Reflection on Well-Intentioned Smothering and the Importance of Independence

  I carried the oil lamp and walked towards the darkest corner of the garden, where a bud was faintly growing. The flower was planted here when I was young and ignorant. I knew that such a small corner could not support flowers, but I stubbornly Plant it here and let it struggle to take root.
  It is the most special flower in my garden. I also want to take care of it with my heart. I always want to write something for it, but I can’t do it. Do I pity it? No, it’s just that every story has nothing to do with it.
  Looking at its tender green but somewhat vicissitudes of life, who knows how many times it has sprouted and withered here? I flicked its delicate branches, feeling guilty all the time. It was obvious that it could bloom its own beauty, but my ignorance blew away its bright life! I caused it. no! I just do it for its own good, and want it to understand that it is impossible to see a rainbow without wind and rain, that it must learn to endure hardships, and that it must learn to fight its way out on its own. Flowers don’t bloom overnight. They have to go through the baptism of time and wind and rain before they can bloom at their most beautiful moment. I hope it understands that, rather than not loving it.
  I came to it again in the morning one day later. It had bloomed a bud the size of an egg, standing delicately on the branch. The tip of the bud was decorated with some pink, and it looked like “the little lotus is just showing its sharp corners.” Thinness and freshness. The wet mud wrapped around the entire sole of the shoe, like a quagmire that was trying to plunge me into an abyss, but it was also like pulling me into a warm place, trapping me deep in it. Look left, look right, it rained all night yesterday, the morning dew mixed with raindrops fell lightly on the leaves, like a diver, jumping silently into the soil, quiet and clear The air enveloped me, but the mud on the soles of my feet made me feel alienated. I was a little irritated. Looking at the tender little pink flower buds, I just felt that they were not very pretty, so I started to sort out a few pieces that were not what I wanted. petal.
  The rain started again. The spring rain in the south is delicate and warm, bringing new life to all things. It is like cow hair, like hair, like the breeze. The cold wind sounds the joy of the new year, and the land also exudes a fresh smell, which melts in my nose. I like the spring rain and all the scenery in spring. That should be included too! Maybe, but I don’t like to be sure.
  Sitting by the window, looking at my little garden, no, it is not actually my garden. The flowers were planted by my mother, and only that little flower is my child. Even so, I can’t help but feel proud, after all, it is my garden! Who will come to appreciate them among the people who are in a hurry? I felt sorry for them, and then looked at it in the corner, how quiet it was. The future opening will definitely be beautiful. If not, it will be just a wisp of white among thousands of flowers, which is eye-catching. Although it is not amazing, it is But it’s also unforgettable. It stood upright, like a child trying to attract attention, trying hard to show itself, but it was useless, because after I took one look at it, I focused my attention on other flowers. With a glance from the corner of my eye, I felt that it was wilting. Go down, dim. Children from other people’s families are always better. I don’t know when this sentence appeared in my mind.
  At noon the next day, I squatted aside to loosen the soil for the flowers. When I approached it again, I changed a path and loosened the soil for the flowers on the other side and watered it. Until finally, I looked at it sideways, and it was With a forbearing look, he lightly touched my calf with the flower bud. I knelt down to loosen the soil for it, catch insects, and water it. Everything was peaceful, but I couldn’t help but want to nag it. I felt that it was growing slowly and flowering was not active. It only bloomed one… Under my endless nagging, it seemed to have wilted a little more, and a few petals fell off, falling on the yellow-brown soil like pieces of broken hearts.
  The flowers are gradually blooming, and spring is coming. The flowers competed to show off their beauty, attracting many admiring glances and attracting many bees. Not to mention how happy I was, I no longer paid attention to it in the corner and just left it alone. Be open there. It tried hard to open its petals, but the fat insect pressed it tightly. Shaking it gently in the breeze was useless, and the leaves were eaten away by them until only twigs were left. It wanted to seek help, but I was only immersed in the beauty of the flowers and had no time to care about it, and its body became even more wilted.
  When I noticed it again, its leaves fell to the ground, and few branches were eaten by fleshworms. I didn’t understand that it enjoyed the same sunlight, air, moisture, and soil as other flowers. There seemed to be no difference, so why did it die in the end? I was very puzzled, and it wasn’t until a sentence floated into my ears that my doubts were resolved.
  ”Eat, eat, eat! You know how to eat. We have worked hard to raise you for so long, and we just want you to be successful!” It
  turns out that it is trapped in the trap of “I love you” and “I am doing this for your own good.” In a dark cage, unable to be inspired by sunlight, he eventually died in the darkness.
  It turns out it grew into me. I grew into the person I least wanted to be.

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