The afternoon was humid and a light breeze swept through the many layers of grass. As I rolled over, my body left a dark imprint in it. My pupils chased the dancing flowers as a cloud darkened the atmosphere. Suddenly, a set of yellow wings flitted past me and landed on a nearby petal. The blossom was pink like bubblegum and it made quite a suitable candidate for a famished insect. When the pair of wings had finally flown around a hedge and disappeared from sight, I blankly stared at the lovely thing before me, deep in reflection. With my thoughts dispersed among my cranial walls, I hardly noticed as my mother approached the defenseless creature and took to it a duo of shiny steel blades. Helplessly I watched while it fell to her hand. “Why did you destroy that flower?” I questioned her solemnly. She told me it was because of its radiant beauty. I contemplated this for a while before my eyes fell upon the pink tissue that resided in my skin. I suddenly understood exactly what it was that she meant. In that moment, my mind wandered to a time a few months before in which she explained the concept to me. “Sometimes,” she said, “we pick flowers because we think they are ravishing, but we pick upon ourselves because we believe we are not.” The buzzing of a bee brought me back to the situation before me. 

Subconsciously, my body floated up to the mechanical device that lay on the polished chestnut desk. The glare of the blinding screen burnt black holes into my vision. With a click of my mouse and a whir of the machine, I came upon a webpage that read The Wildlife and Countryside Act. It seemed to apply the law to picking certain breeds of flower due to the rarity of the species. This prevented them from becoming extinct and allowed others to enjoy them as well. Following the discovery, I pushed the red button that rested on the monitor’s side. The screen darkened and shortly after, the machine drifted off into a deep slumber. I sat in my chair for a few decades, engrossed by the information. I considered the idea that perhaps beautiful things should not be picked upon; maybe they should remain beautiful so others may appreciate them. Once more, I stared down at the distinctly fleshy wound. In that instance, I decided to cherish both my inner and outer beauty. In that instance, I decided no more…