(Diary of a Plant- Part 1)
I was first aware of my existence when the hard outside of my seed cracked open and my tiny shoot pushed upward. It was dark and moist, and very still.
I wiggled my shoot around, trying to get my bearings. I knew very little about where I was, who I was, or for what purpose I had been born. All I knew was this, I had to get my shoot out of the dark.
At this time, I could not have explained to you why or how I knew this, or even what existed beyond the dark. I just knew I needed to push my shoot in a specific direction.
I made a brave attempt to do this, but after only a little while I was completely exhausted. I stopped wriggling and considered what to do with the limited information I had. During this time of contemplation, I felt a slight itch in my seed. It was small at first, small enough that I could ignore it while keeping my focus on more important things.
However, after just a short amount of time, the itching sensation grew to the point of being unbearable.
I suddenly found new energy I did not know I possessed as my discomfort drove me to thrash around in my seed. What was this agony? Had I only been born to suffer?
My passionate and pained musings were suddenly doused, drenched in fact, by the sudden arrival of something cold and startling. It made my dark surroundings seem even darker, and, stickier. Clumps of dark goop stuck together around my seed and shoot.
The sudden arrival of this new thing had momentarily distracted me from how itchy my seed was, but now an entirely new sensation brought my attention back around.
My seed was breaking! The new, cold thing had made my seed grow bigger and now it was breaking!
Despite the fact that my seed was causing me intense discomfort, it was still the thing holding my shoot steady. It was all I had ever known in my short life. I frantically tried to cling to it as it began to break away.
My tiny world was changing and there was nothing I could do about it.
I panicked as my seed broke completely away from my shoot. The pieces lay around me, dead and useless, as if they hadn't been the thing that brought me to life.
My shoot drooped in the sticky darkness as I mourned my broken world. Could my short life be over before I had even begun it?