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@ ODILI ONUOHA
2025-05-29 05:14:31In a forgotten valley surrounded by mountains, there lived a girl named Rita. Her village believed in balance above all. They built lives without extremes no loud laughter, no deep sorrow. Everything was quiet, even joy. Smiles were polite. Tears were hidden.
Rita had always felt something missing. She saw it in dreams vivid colors, music, a joy that made your chest ache with light. But in her village, emotion was like a weed trimmed before it grew wild.
One day, exploring beyond the hills, Rita found a strange garden untouched, walled off, hidden behind a curtain of vines. Inside, roses bloomed in impossible colors, but every rosebush was thick with thorns. A single sign read:
“Only those who bleed may feel the bloom.”
Curious, Rita reached out. A thorn pierced her skin. Pain flared through her finger. She recoiled but then, something strange happened. The air shimmered. The garden came alive with fragrance, color, and warmth she’d never known. Her wound stung, but her heart raced with wonder.
She returned every day. Each time, the thorns drew blood and each time, the garden showed her something deeper: the memory of a lost friend, the sting of loneliness, the ache of longing. She wept. She raged. She broke.
And then one day she laughed. Not politely. Not softly. But with her whole body. The pain had carved space for something vast. She danced barefoot among the thorns, scars and all.
Years later, when Rita returned to her village, she was changed. She sang songs that made people cry and laugh in the same breath. She planted a new garden in the town square with thorns intact and invited everyone in.
At first, they hesitated. But slowly, they followed her path. And one by one, the village bloomed with color.
Moral: To feel happiness, you must experience pain because only through the thorns can the roses mean something.