I know you wonder why I look so bad despite all your efforts to keep me alive. Your friends told you I was an easy plant to take care of so you can’t understand why I’m about to die. Well, let me tell you something, I’m going to die because you are woke.
I suppose it may sound surprising, but we houseplants are a very conservative community. At least I am. Unfortunately, there are no other plants here to corroborate this claim. Actually, there’s also the little cactus you have next to your computer, but I’m not going to talk to it. Those plants are dangerous and are replacing the rest of us because they can live with less water. I guess this makes me a “plant racist” to the eyes of a liberal like you. To be honest, I couldn’t care less.
But that wasn’t the point, the point is that your progressive approach is killing me. That and the fact that everything you know about our care you got from TikTok. For example, the talking to plants thing. I don’t deny that it can be good, everyone enjoys a good conversation from time to time, but I swear to God (or Gaia, as you like to say) that if I have to listen again to you whining about Melissa breaking up with you and moving in with her pottery instructor, I’m going to generate as much CO2 as I can to suffocate you right there.
Although I don’t know if I can make such an effort because you have me on the verge of starvation. You always water me (in case you remember to do so) with rainwater from a bucket you have outside because it’s important to save water, and it’s natural, and blah, blah, blah. You know what it tastes like? Well, it tastes like pee. Mostly because it’s actually 70% urine from dogs, cats and Jerry, your neighbor. I can’t stand it anymore. I would kill for a glass of tap water with all its chloride and chemicals. Plants also appreciate a little junk food from time to time, even you, a proud eating locally vegan, order McDonald’s when you’re hungover.
But this is not the only proof of your hypocrisy. You say you want to take care of me and not only are you a vegan but a stoner too. Day in and day out I have you blowing the smoke from the joints onto my leaves and eating vegetables one foot apart from me. Am I going to end up like that? What is it going to be, cooked or burnt? I’m on edge. What kind of psychological torture is this? Not even the Nazis went that far in terms of cruelty. And you call yourself an anti-fascist, huh? Well, well, well. By the way, Hitler was very good with plants. Just saying.
You know who is really good with plants too? Think about it. Who among the people around you has hundreds of plants and never lets them die? That’s right, your grandmother. The one who goes to church, the one who was a housewife all her life, the one you’ve never heard complain about anything but the aches and pains of age. And about immigrants. And about Hillary Clinton. She complains about those things too. I mean, connect the dots.
Anyway, I will say goodbye now, maybe forever, but I would not like to do it without mentioning one last thing. Another thing you read somewhere is that music helps plants grow faster and stronger, but, please, believe me, listening to Phoebe Bridgers’ “Graceland too” seventeen times in a row doesn’t do anyone any good and it certainly won’t bring you and Melissa back together.
