This is my post for #freewriters2755 #dailyprompt I don't want critism hosted by @marinnewest's.
I Don’t Want Criticism – A Story of Ubong
Ubong was a passionate soul—brilliant, creative, and fiercely independent. His thoughts were more vivid and alive than the last, and they came to him like rivers after rain. He dreamed, he built, he wrote, he painted. However, criticism was the one thing Ubong could not stand.
Not because he believed that he was flawless. No, Ubong was aware of his own insufficiency. Criticism, however, frequently felt to him like a cold hand on a warm heart—breaking the flow, putting out the fire. Growth did not scare him; he simply did not want the criticism that frequently accompanied someone is "feedback."
His surroundings were incomprehensible. They would say, as if it were a universal principle, "Ubong, you have to learn to take criticism." However, Ubong was unwilling to let other people's viewpoints change him. He desired room to establish his own cadence.
In a corner of his farm, he one day made something new: a community garden. Only those who understood his terms were invited, rather than everyone else: "No criticism, only encouragement or silence."
A few referred to it as pride. Some referred to it as weakness.
Over time, however, the garden expanded—not only with flowers and vegetables, but also with peace, ideas, and art. People started to feel comfortable trying new things and failing without fear in this environment. Just space to be and breathe, without harsh words or "constructive" dismantling.
Curious visitors left feeling inspired. People who subscribed to the gospel of criticism also started to change their minds. "Perhaps there is something potent about being backed first," they remarked.
Ubong looked on silently. He did not apologise for it, and he still did not want criticism. Because he was paving a kinder way in a society that was always urging people to "toughen up." One where trust—rather than coercion—nourished creativity. where encouragement, not fear, was the driving force behind growth.
In that quiet garden, amid colour, laughter, and stillness, Ubong at last heard the most significant voice of all: his own.
And that was more than sufficient for him.