Fixation on Forgotten Things (collection)
My plants don’t need water yet– I remind myself this every single day so that I do not forget and drown them with my love. Only once the dirt is bone-dry when I plunge my finger up past my knuckle am I allowed to satisfy my silly need to care for this fraction of life that I’ve claimed as my own. Over and over again I check reminding myself that there is such a thing as too much love. The plant remains: still waxy, still green, still breathing in my stale breath, still processing light into seconds of air to lap up each day, still working hard for so little, still thankless, growing…
My plants don’t need water because I’d rather love them, and I’m proud of them and how much they’ve grown. It just makes me jealous to see their automatic and predetermined success. I'd rather be supportive, standing as a stake to prop them up. But spare the rod, spoil the child. So I pinch back its leafy reaching vines despite myself and everything I want. I prune and purge the signs of aging…
My plants don’t need water, I like the way things are, as is. I did it right, everyone thinks so. I mean, I designed it this way, after all. Meticulously. I potted and cared for them and tucked them in at night. I hand-delivered them to this very moment, right now, where they have arrived beautifully, have they not? Why does it still have to be my job, and my job alone? Why complain now…
My plant does not need water yet, it needs to prove to me that it's thirsty. I need to see it before I believe it. It's not real unless other people start to notice it, too. Maybe it will look better after losing all that water weight first…
My plant doesn’t need water because she needs to speak up if she wants more respect. Or do something, at least. It can’t just sit there and expect to be understood. I mean, if I just sat there and waited even for one second the world would leave me behind. I’m just preparing it for the real world, wherever that is…
My plant doesn’t need water yet but today there’s a soft brown patch blooming below its lower leaf. The second I’m not looking this is how I’m treated, since I can’t make one mistake. Betraying me and all of my hard work. How dare it, after all I’ve done for you? How dare you…
My plant isn't going to be watered, it would only add to the rot. If I don’t notice the problem the decay can’t be of my own creation. Down the line, when the ache takes over the roots, I can claim that it wasn’t my mouth to begin with
My plant is all dried out. Powdery. Gray. Concaving. Its leggy shape reaching pitifully toward the hot sun. Weeping, I mourn the loss of innocence thematically, like a character in a book. And somehow there’s still feeling that ebbing pang of jealousy
My plant didn’t need water, “they THRIVE on NEGLECT” is verbatim what it proclaimed on the stand, misted and pampered and new
It's not my fault when it gives out on me, inevitably. I'm following all the rules. I'm remembering to not drown it while I standby and wait for whatever else I have to do.
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