Over The Edge #Planetorplastic

Sibling Rivalry

Do you know what it is like to the golden child of the world? Mother gave birth to two of us. ME the perfect and unfailing, the fearful and if I'm not bragging the all powerful Ocean. My left arm, Arctic, BAM, hit you hard. The right arm, Indian ocean. BAM, hit you harder. Oh whats that? My leg? Alantic coming right at you.  Another round house kick, Pacific. I'm quite the bad ass.

My younger brother, is something special. All 7 parts of him. I remember watching him grow up, pushing me away more and more. But im still 70% on my mothers favorite. She doesn't notice when I hit him, chipping away at his skin so he becomes less and less. You built cites like jewelry? Ha. Here, fear my migty hurricane. Lets see you pretty jewels surrvie that.

He doesn't give up though. He just builds more and more. He makes the earth warm and cozy for me, and I can build bigger and bigger storms. I breathe them out in large exhales like his melinial vapers.

He's really not that bad, even though I mess with him so much. Its sorta our thing now. But, I guess I took it too far. On storm too many. He was hurting me and I didn't even know it. It took a long time for me to realize that his jewled cities were dumping their beads into me. No big deal, one tiny thing. But I didn't notice the build up. And now. . . now it hurts to move. My fish are choking on it. My turtles are growing deformed around it. They cant sim without running into it. Its killing me. Each breath is a heavy sigh. My aching waves trying to push the plastic back to him but he wont take it. He keeps giving me more and more.

I asked him to stop, but he thought I was joking. He sent a few to clean up and I felt better for a little bit but the cancer is back. Each piece of plastic running through my veins like burning poison.  I tried to tap out, but he didn't listen.  Its starting to cover my eyes and I can't see. 

In all of my millions and millions of years never have I actually been afraid.  I have been here in the beginning, and I thought I would always exist here, but there will soon be more plastic in me then the fish that I harbor. MY surface will be covered and you will no longer see my deep blues, my crystal greens, all you will see is the ugly trash my brother has given me.

He has turned his back. He won't look at me.  He doesn't see me. He looks at my waves, solid plastic and doesn't see me anymore. He likes that I look like he created me. I am his new creation.  I will never be as I was,  and I am forgotten.