A Prose With No Direction

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I would hate to be a plant.

Plants get all the sunlight, all the praise, all the attention. They have people caring for them, giving them water and trimming their leaves—trimming their flaws.

I would hate to be such a being who is put under the burn of the sun, under the burn of the spotlight, so that the whole sky above could see what I do.

If I were to be a plant, I would hate the sky with my entire being. They're always around me, looking down upon my weak and flawed vessel with their judgmental eyes. Every move I make, every thing I touch would be seen and be criticized day and night, whether it is the eyes of the clouds or the eyes of the stars.

Also, plants wither quickly when people do not care for it. Plants are dependent, or houseplants, I mean. But wild plants are also dependent on the skies above them for providing the necessities they need to survive, which are the sun and water.

In other words, plants are clingy.

And clingy is something I pray not to be.

The sun contributes heavily towards the death of a plant, crippling it until it is dehydrated to the point that no one can recognize it. 

It becomes plasmolyze, deprived of the necessities they require for life.

This is what happens when one is put under the spotlight, when one is thrown up on stage, when one is underneath a microscope. Like the sun that cripples a plant, the audience, the people, and the society cripple what is left of us. We are all put under the sun, under a spotlight, for others to examine us and point out our flaws.

Why do we subject ourselves to this kind of abuse?

Why do we let these people, people of whom most of us don't know, hurt us?

Why do we choose to become plants?

I've thought about this idea for a while for I, too, subjected myself to this kind of abuse. 

The answer to the question is this:

We all want to be the protagonist.

We all want to be the main character of the narrative.

We all want to be that person with a greater purpose than others and embark on fulfilling adventures.

We all want to be someone we are not.

Becoming the protagonist to a narrative is like signing your soul away to the devil.

But in this case, you sign your soul away to the public.

By agreeing to become the narrative's focus, you are allowing yourself to be put in a position in which you allow others to watch your every move, criticize your every flaw, and assume you to be a person you are not just based on what they see.

Be being the main character to a dreamer's fantasy, you become the withered plant you will be in reality.

People will love you.

People will hate you.

People will praise you.

People will kill you.

That is the life of a protagonist.

That is the life of a plant.

I have decided now that I no longer wish to live the life of a plant, since I now know how withered I can be because of it.

I wish to live my life in the most secluded corner of the world. I wish to lay in the darkness rather than be in the light.

That is how I kept my sanity.

Or... what is left of it.

No!

I have sanity.

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I caution you now not to live the life of a plant.

Not unless you want to kill yourself in the process.