When I was six my mom died. I was broken, I could not figure out why the greatest person I ever knew should had to die. So I went to my dad and asked him one simple thing. Why. He looked at me with his tear-stained eyes and asked me something I didn't  understood at the time. 'When you are in a garden which flower do you pick?' I looked at him confused because I couldn't find the connection between the two things but I just went with it. 'I would pick the prettiest flower.' He nodded and smiled at me. 'God thought so about your mom.' I didn't understood it what had God to do with it? What had a garden and flowers to do with it?

When i grew up understood what he had meant. She was a amazing woman and because of that she was the prettiest flower. It didn't feel right that the best people had to die first so I made it my mission to pluck the ugliest flowers. The bad ones deserve to die not my mother!

I began to kill those I found not pretty enough to stay in my garden. I killed all sorts of people. They could be rapists or serial killers or just someone that find other people suffering funny. They didn't deserve to be in my garden, those flowers would make my garden unhealthy and ugly but more important they would be a disgrace to my mothers memory.

 People called me a killer but I would call myself a gardener. I keep my garden beautiful and healthy without destroying the good. So now you know how I am, I hope I never have to pluck you out of the garden of life.

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Excuses for my English. Please do not, I repeat, do not gringe.
And now I'm gonna go 😅.
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'Till the next time! 👋🏻.