h i do like imagining the plants in a way like flowery eldritch horrors.
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"Rebecca" love's a demon, hanging from the tallest tree
"I'm sick, you know that? I'm so sick they didn't even think I could leave earth,"
I confess to a plant. I don't have any strength left in me to try and help her. I am horrified by her slow passing. I wish I could save her, that I could have saved everyone.
Just like that girl, Tesla, experienced unfathomable horrors. Her children too. Now this plant before me. Can I blame them for hating us? I can't blame any of them for hating humans. If they hate me, then I deserve it.
"I'm the only one who was in cryosleep for 200 years without waking up. My body, in all that time, could never be healed. I wanted to see my project through, but now the humans must hurt you to survive, and hurt each other. They hurt me. Just like you, I'm dying. I hoped your kind would be a chance at a second life, where you wouldn't be treated this way, and help people the way I wanted to. I failed.
You are like an angel. Humans are greedy, selfish, and live short lives. Even though you are dying now, you'll probably outlive me. I can't do anything to help you or myself in this state."
The wheelchair, the needle in my arm with such a limited supply of IV, all a waste on me. I don't even have the strength to push this chair myself. I'm deplorable.
Shining like a rare pearl inside the mouth of a clam, she is so much more captivating than me. Her tendrils and wings are like petals, botanical. They ruffle like bells.
She is beautiful
She doesn't respond. Of course she won't. She doesn't have the same conscious as I do. I never figured out a way to communicate through thoughts and feelings. But I like to imagine she understands.
I visit her every day. It is comfort away from humanity, someone dying along with me. My parents wheel me there every day. They don't know how else to comfort their dying daughter, they also feel the failure on their backs. They never comforted her in life either.
This young genius, not even yet twenty, dying a failure. No longer of any use.
I present her the only thing I've managed to keep alive and grow, preserved in a glass container. A Sunflower. I excitedly show her everyday it's progress.
