Three things stood out to me given my recent experience, which I didn't relate to deeply when listening to the audiobook 4-5 years ago.
1. He was too young to know how to love the rose.
For a moment, I felt like I was the rose, turning red for my own sensitivity, insecurity and vanity, and for not appreciating the wholehearted love (my ex being the little prince in this case). And when he saw thousands of common roses, he still remembered his own rose - she had tamed him and that made her so unique. That's why people always think fondly of their first love, or past loves, while all the other similar faces out there seem so unspecial.
2. Taming a person would risk tears.
New to dating again, and the dating procedure feels nothing like how I last fell in love. One major reason is dating feels like I'm "taming" a stranger. We need to lure each other with some qualities -- a wholesome package, build the bonds, and at the same time we're dreading the investment. An investment we make not on the foundation of love, but perhaps FOMO. The fox is the next love we hope to find, but we don't fall in love the same natural way as with the rose. Instead, we feel like it's an effort to tame, from the very first hello.
3. The perspectives about life that this movie adaptation emphasized: I'm not unique because there are millions of roses out there, and many of them are definitely better than me in certain ways. But the ties I established (the people I tamed) make me unique, and I'm grateful to have been tamed by these wonderful people.
We all grow up while keeping an inner child. Funny how we forget that part of us through school and work life (great irony in the movie adaptation). All the little magical girl stickers I collected no longer seem like a waste of time.
The girl in the movie was set to follow a "life plan" and grow up to be a boring robot, but the story of the little prince changed her. Plans don't follow through, and I've experienced plenty recently. I should be more spontaneous sometimes, if not adventurous. The current career break could be a blessing in disguise in that sense, taking time to think about what I really want to do. But still, I make plans -- I give my best to what I have control over, stay optimistic about what I can't control, and free myself from anxiety if plans don't work out.
1. He was too young to know how to love the rose.
For a moment, I felt like I was the rose, turning red for my own sensitivity, insecurity and vanity, and for not appreciating the wholehearted love (my ex being the little prince in this case). And when he saw thousands of common roses, he still remembered his own rose - she had tamed him and that made her so unique. That's why people always think fondly of their first love, or past loves, while all the other similar faces out there seem so unspecial.
2. Taming a person would risk tears.
New to dating again, and the dating procedure feels nothing like how I last fell in love. One major reason is dating feels like I'm "taming" a stranger. We need to lure each other with some qualities -- a wholesome package, build the bonds, and at the same time we're dreading the investment. An investment we make not on the foundation of love, but perhaps FOMO. The fox is the next love we hope to find, but we don't fall in love the same natural way as with the rose. Instead, we feel like it's an effort to tame, from the very first hello.
3. The perspectives about life that this movie adaptation emphasized: I'm not unique because there are millions of roses out there, and many of them are definitely better than me in certain ways. But the ties I established (the people I tamed) make me unique, and I'm grateful to have been tamed by these wonderful people.
We all grow up while keeping an inner child. Funny how we forget that part of us through school and work life (great irony in the movie adaptation). All the little magical girl stickers I collected no longer seem like a waste of time.
The girl in the movie was set to follow a "life plan" and grow up to be a boring robot, but the story of the little prince changed her. Plans don't follow through, and I've experienced plenty recently. I should be more spontaneous sometimes, if not adventurous. The current career break could be a blessing in disguise in that sense, taking time to think about what I really want to do. But still, I make plans -- I give my best to what I have control over, stay optimistic about what I can't control, and free myself from anxiety if plans don't work out.