Fake 2010. Fake Rose Study.
Accompanying Short Story...
I am perfection, perfect with every petal exactly the right size larger than the next. Flawless, I stand a cut above the rest with silky skirts that bloom in perfect unison, I twirl among my flawed peers. Showing them how superior I was, how nothing was out of place, or imperfect. I was perfect and so, I was the best. Then, another of me appeared, exactly identical, we were both splendid, a perfect pair. Then another joined and another, until a sea of perfection was formed. I looked around and realized I was unidentifiable amongst the perfection that now enveloped my world. Clones upon clones, making that perfection what suffocated all that was special about me. I was not perfectly special, I was perfectly replaceable and where one of me was, another was just as good. I looked at those imperfect roses that I once mocked and realized the truth of my reality. Those imperfect roses were better than any perfection could ever be because their imperfections were what made them all the more perfect. They were unique, special in a way that I could never be. Their flaws were their strengths, making them stronger, bolder and filled with life. I, however, was just another copy, a phony pretty fake that had no real depth beneath my deteriorating self-importance. I could not even hide in on myself with shame, because unlike the real roses of the world, I was a fake of silk and thread, unable to even wither with shame.