"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you--the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars ( except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose."
you telling me that trying to follow your heart is so hard and goes against your better judgment is killing me. of all the characters in the little prince, i find that i resonate most singularly with the rose. i've had trouble recently expressing what it is i truly feel and how i feel about you. i'm scared that i'll fall too deeply, but maybe if i cannot make you see how much i want you, you would leave. that, to me, is a terrifying thought. i don't think i've ever felt so seen or noticed and in all honesty i think i'm starting to fall for you harder and faster. i dreamt about you last night. it's hard for me to understand what makes me so special or deserving of your feelings and attention.
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