When There's So Much Light, Why Do I Feel So Dark?

Just something I decided I needed to write... I must vent SOMEhow... (And no Sean, I don't need a concussion so no headbutting!)

I often let my spirit wander through my gardens. Let my eriphral fingers grace the velvet petals of my roses. My roses aren't like most people's though... My roses are special. They're the most beautiful roses in the world. No one else seems to understand tha- What's this? Hm... Another has wandered into my garden... Shall we see how she handles this?

The woman is young... beautiful, vibrant, so full of life and energy and hope. The epitamy of youth. I did nothing to hide my jealousy, knowing full well she cannot see me. Her hazel eyes wandered across the garden in confusion. She was drawn to the rose bushes. She eyed them with contempt. I whispered into her ear, something I did often to those who wandered into my little sanctuary, wondering if this one would be different.

"Is something wrong with my roses?"

Her voice was like silk, rolling off her tongue and slithering into my heart. "They're... they're black." She said flatly with a hint of repulse in her voice.

I tutted my tongue. "And now you think they are ugly...?"

"Who wants a black rose? They already look dead. There is no beauty left within them."

I sighed. She's just like the others. I turned away and sat on a branch. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

She turned to my voice, not seeing it. "Why would you breed these... monstrosities?"

I winced at that name for them. "These are only... 'monstrosities' to the shallow mind. But I wouldn't expect you to understand. No one does. Go. Leave. Go back to your red rose gardens, where there is no beauty beneath the petals. Go die with them, let youself be dragged through society's mires and then die. You will never know the true beauty of the black rose." I turned from her in anger.

She approached me, curiously angry. "And what 'beauty' is that?!"

I sighed. "You cannot see past they're gloomy air, they're velvet lies, they're hardened thorns to the beauty within. Until you do that... you will never understand."

"Try me."

Another one like this... twice in one year. Impressive. "The gloomy air is because of they're absence of color, something roses are fabled for. They're velvet lies to shadow and hide what is truly within the center. And the thorns are there to protect. Just as my barbed tongue is." I looked at her, searching for some form of comprehension in her face. I found nothing.

She turned on her heel and huffed away. I watched her leave, and then floated down to tend to the rose she had fiddled with. Bruised petals, just as my soul felt right now.

'I'm sorry you felt that way... I'm sorry... for both of us...'