On the first day of orientation, my roommate bought a small potted plant. He then placed it near the window next to my desk and decided never to water it. Since then, its leaves have faded from a merry green to a shade of yellow reserved for the deathly ill. I at first suspected my roommate was simply lacking in horticultural knowledge. I sympathized with his error, as it had been my own until I had discovered an essential piece of information in my senior year of high school. “Plants,” I told him, “are the stupidest creatures on the planet. When lacking water, rather than seeking it themselves or giving any sign that they are thirsty, they just sit there and begin to die. It is your job as its owner to pour water directly on top of this pathetic creature before it resorts to willful suicide.” I will confess that it was not without a bit of pride that I gave him this gem of wisdom. I think he may have been a bit dense, however, as he then tried to persuade me to stick his plant up my bum. What a fool – there, the plant would surely die.
While I would generally shy from calling any man a murderer, I can find no term more suitable for my roommate. What was meant to be an oxygen-providing companion throughout our college years has become a symbol of death and hatred. The many steps I have taken to remedy the situation have proven futile. For example, seeing that he was determined to take no advice from me, I wondered if he would open his ears to complaints from the plant itself. I resolved to scribe onto little notes what I would say to my owner if I were the plant. These notes I stuck onto the plant itself. The first notes were just: I’m Thirsty! or I Want Some Water! As these were ignored, they began to get more and more desperate and pleading, saying things like: Please Water Me I’m Literally Dying Here!! Towards the end, I just wrote the word Murderer on a note along with a sad face and left it there.
My biggest regret is that I myself refused to water the plant. I meant it to be a lesson to my foul roommate, but in the end I feel that I may have been the one more affected by my little friend’s death. To any in my position in the future, do not succumb to your pride. You are only taking part in a death that never needed to happen. Also, I urge you to pray for my lack-wit plant’s soul, may it laze witlessly in death as it always did in life.