The Likes Of You

My First Plant

I was five when I got my first plant for my birthday. I wanted to take care of it myself, it was my gift. But my mother insisted she water it instead.

I was five but I was rebellious. One day I took my water bottle to the window sill and I poured every last drop of water on the plant. My mother found out what I had done, the plant had died. She said i didn't have any control over myself and the things i did, she said this was the consequences of my own actions.

I was five, I didn't understand what she meant. She had been angry, she had used big long words I didn't think I was meant to understand. But i had known she was wrong.
I had had control, I hadn't poured it all down like a waterfall, it had been more of a rainfall, or a slow drizzle. I had poured the amount of water that fit in the cap of the bottle first. I had watched how the water slowly ran down every stem, every leaf, every apex, and how it weighed my leaves down. When the plant leaves finally straightened up, catching on after the droplet, I had poured the same amount again, and watched the leaves again, and again, and again, and i hadn't stopped till i didn't have anything left to give, till i didnt have any water for myself, till i had exhausted all of it.

And then, just like how everyone awaits the rainbow after the rain, I had waited for my plant to bloom beautiful flowers.

Instead, it gave up.
My plant died.
Even though I gave it everything I could. My first plant left me after I sacrificed everything I had to show it my love. My first plant had died. I had killed my first plant.

Later I realised why it had happened. My mother was wrong. It wasn't because I didn't have control or because I was reckless. It was because I didn't know when to stop giving.
Nothing was permanent in this world. We have gotten proof of that over the centuries humans have breathed. My plant would have died one day, whether or not I would've overwatered it.

But I would have had its company for longer. Maybe if i had given it half of the water in my bottle and kept the other half for me, it would've had life for longer. Maybe if i had been selfish and given it one, two, three, caps of water only and saved the rest for myself, my plant wouldn't have died. Maybe if I had left my mother to take care of it and sat back to enjoy the consequences only, I would've finally had a flowering plant.
Maybe.
But I killed my plant.
Accidentally.
I didn't know when to stop giving.

I remember crying a lot that night. My first plant was dead and it was my fault. I had hated myself for almost a whole week, even more. I had hated myself so much that I stopped going to the park with my friends till I could forgive myself. I couldn't look myself in the eye through the mirror, it was my fault.

I had made a promise to myself that I would never, ever, get a plant again. Promises were meant to be broken, but not this one. It wasn't just a promise, it was more of a punishment to myself. It was revenge from me, to me, I was hurting myself for killing my plant. And I remember being so cruel on myself.
I remember every bit of pain I had been through. It was alright though, I had deserved it.
I had killed my first plant.

I'm turning sixteen this July, I still hate myself. I still haven't gone to the park with my friends. I still can't look myself in the eyes through the mirror. I still haven't got myself a second plant. How could I?
I didn't deserve one.
I had killed my first plant.
I still don't know when to stop giving.

~love, Av C
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a.n. : This is for myself. I just know some of you can relate to it, i hope i did justice to that feeling.