A Weed, or a Flower?

People so often disregard the importance of weeds, failing to realize how parallel our existence has become. It's quite an anomaly to find someone who depicts themselves as a fully bloomed flower that has the apparent ability to remain and last as exuberant as the Rose in Beauty and the Beast. If you were to pick yourself out in a garden, you might consider yourself to be a dandelion.

When we were kids, we would pull them out from the ground with our dainty hands. Our sweat would cause the dandelions to turn our fingers yellow, and that would somehow give us a sense of pride and accomplishment. We would blow on dandelions and make a million wishes like a daytime star. When we were kids, we didn't immediately dismiss these mediocre weeds as so, but we considered them flowers. In our innocence we were happy.

Now, when we look in the mirror, we search for our flaws that have been sung out of other peoples' mouths. We see ourselves as weeds because we are not accustomed to being claimed as a delicate flower in which all may be different, while none are seen as anything less than perfect. We hypocritically judge and define other people as weeds, while we wish ourselves to be flowers. Maybe, just maybe, we really are just different flowers, and if so, I see no reason why weeds can't be either.