from an ocean in the bathtub

Dear cacti, I’m sorry my mother drowned you with her affection and over-watering. I’m sorry I neglected you to the point where she needed to step in and water you. And I'm sorry you weren't treated better...or worse.  You were fun while you lasted. You made nice room décor. And a nice topic of conversation for when I ran out of ways to entertain my guests. You were always there for me, and I was never there for you, I tried my best, I really did.  You are a tragic loss, and I will remember you until the end of time. Or until I get new cacti. Whichever comes first. I remember the fateful afternoon like it was last summer. Mainly because it was last summer. I had finally decided to get a social life and leave my room. My mom decided to see how you guys were doing. She did not like what she saw. The soil was parched and you were barely in it, on the verge of falling out. So she decided to water you. I think you died of sudden shock or something. The first o...

(Sorry this isn’t a continuation of my previous post, I know many wanted to hear about how I thought adults could mind read. Maybe another time.) They instill a deep, irrational fear in me, that whenever I step foot on one, I will fall and crack my head open…and die. Even if it’s not slippery, even if I’m not barefoot or in flip flops, I fear that I will fall and be embraced by both the cold deck and death. This fear started when I was a kid, and for a good reason. I was at my friend’s birthday party. We were in the new, state-of-the-art CRCE pool. It had a tall, glorious water slide. It had a volcano that bubbled up water like lava. It had a volleyball net and a basketball hoop. It was every kid’s dream for an aquatic center. It was definitely my dream aquatic center. It was also every kid’s dream to go down that beautiful waterslide. But it was closed when the party started, so we had to patiently wait for what seemed like hours. Its two twists taunted me with the fun...