I hated the thorns.
They were so prickly, so uncomfortable. They made me feel so unworthy.
I was not in control, they choked me with rules, choked me with pressure, they refused to choke me at my convenience.
Arrrrrggghhh, how I hated the thorns.
They made me cry, they bent my insides in shapes I never knew existed, they oppressed my thoughts and actions.
Till...I realized *gasping*
I just blossomed.
My flower just blossomed. Wait a minute, what was happening here?
Who was that confident flower, who had found her way?
Who was that flower that smelled so good?
Who was that flower that had found her voice and herself?
Who was that beautiful flower looking back at me in the mirror?
It was me. I had become the she that I admired.
The thorn was important to my growth. Some of the thorns were there to protect me and adapt to keep me from getting hurt.
The thorns protected the rose I have become. They were uncomfortable, downright annoying but they kept me safe and I can't help but be grateful for the thorns.
The thorns made me beautiful.