The story of the pink flower

(...)
The man on the muddy cell realized the cell wasn't closed. And he left. Leaving the pink flower alone. Flowers can't walk, so she stayed there. And she waited. And waited. She tried her best to stay perfect all the time, hoping for the man to come back. Sometimes it seemed like he was looking at her, and her hopes always would bring her up again and again. Although she could stay rised up because of that, she was surely getting weaker... After all, he didn't come back to her.

Or maybe he couldn't see her anymore. Or maybe he simply decided that he didn't want to see nor be seen. Maybe he was still there on that muddy cell, maybe he left to another cell, maybe he left to a better place instead of staying in that perturbing cell. Maybe he found out another pretty flower and got fascinated by it more than by our pink flower. Maybe he got tired of the pink flower. Maybe he found another human to be with. Maybe he always had someone else. Maybe he is with that person at moment. Or maybe he is still there, invisible to the flower's eyes, but she can't see him because he probably doesn't want to be seen.
Maybe... maybe there are infinite options. We actually don't know what happened to him. That's not the point. We really don't know about him.

All we know in this story is about the pink flower.

She was left all alone, nearby the muddy cell. There wasn't more flowers around, all the others died quick. There was no one else there. In the end, who was trapped all this time?
However, she still had hopes. She still had love. She never hated the man and she wanted to be there if for some unfortunate reason he had to come back and need her help. She would be there for him no matter what. Very pink and shining as before.

However, reality is very different. As much as she wanted to remain alive and as a source of joy, without water, she was left there to die, like all the other weird flowers that tried to grow up in that muddy cell without success. As much as she tried to keep shining on her own, everything that surrounded her turned into darkness.
She couldn't keep shining alone, and she also couldn't keep shining for that sad man on the cell. She couldn't see his real beautiful eyes and angelical smile, his fluffy hair, his tone skin that didn't need sunscream... She couldn't feel his warmth anymore... She couldn't hold his hands nor fall asleep on his shoulder too... she couldn't feel his hugs, his kiss, his touch, his love... She couldn't feel whatever that he would make her feel because there was simply no one there. There was only a both vague and vivid memory of his presence, muitas saudades, and sadness over irrealistic hopes. She could only hold her memories close to her and hope that they wouldn't vanish. She could only dream every single day about the times when they could be put together again, the same way they were before.

Correction: if possible, she wouldn't want it to be exactly the same way. if they could restore that muddy cell together, and turn it into a better place where they both could call it similar to a sweet-comfy-happy home, instead of a very disturbing place... That would be more than perfect to her.
Despite of this, as long as he was with her she wouldn't mind such details as being in an awful dirty cell. With him around, everything seemed more beautiful and it really fascinated her. Everything would turn out fine. She wouldn't mind keep living in a muddy cell, because with him there, it wasn't just a muddy cell at her eyes. It was nice to be there with him. They made it nice somehow.

She would smile and cry at the same time while thinking about the memories that made her life so pretty, about the wishes and fantasies she had. Maybe that was all this: her own fantasies. Maybe it wasn't truth. Maybe it was just her imagination. At a certain point, she couldn't tell anymore. The more she cried, the less water she had to sustain herself.

She gave her very best, more than her best, more than she could ever do. She was even willing to try going more far than that. And it still wasn't enough. What they lived together for so little time in human's perspective really felt like thousands of years to her. She never felt so alive in her short life. He completely turned her life upside down. It seems that for him it wasn't that much. She knew that when compared to him and other humans, what she went thru was probably nothing. She knew, but she still believed she was more special than that to him. She believed it was possible for them to be by each other sides. She was truly happy while thinking about it. But, maybe flowers and humans were never meant to be together. It seems that what they felt was very different and had very different impacts on their lives. She couldn't fulfill him, even tho he did more than she could ever imagine.
Although she was sad, she never ever blamed the man for what he did. As long as he was happy doing whatever he was doing, she at least could try to believe that he was in a better place than a small muddy cell, somewhere on this big world where other people like him live. More than her own happinness, she wanted him to be happy no matter what. That included the kind of happinness where she was no part of it, as much as she wanted to be.

She had to accept everything. She was running out of options. There was nothing else she could do. Or there was? She never knew until her last breath.

The pretty pink flower lost her colour.
She died, leaving her seeds on the ground.

Maybe one day there could be rain inside that place, and more pink flowers would born there. Maybe someone comes back and waterize them. Maybe by the wind's strenght the seeds would spread around the world. Maybe one day the pink flower would be able to meet the man again, and resume their story. Maybe they could restart all over again, trying to fix their mistakes.
Or maybe not. Maybe the seeds will remain there forever, without the chance to grow up. We don't know.

For now, all that was left there was a dirty muddy cell...
Without any living specie around.