Nonfiction

Dirty Fake Plant by Olivia Lemmons

Hanging from the ceiling, I see a pot of old dirt with a big fat plant sitting on top of it. Not rooted however, for this “plant” is just a fake one. Collecting dust in my room and not sunlight. A seemingly uninteresting and tasteless attempt at mimicking a live plant. This stupid old thing does not even know how to take first breaths. A poser of plants, an absolute shame. Why can it not do something better with its life than sit in my room acting like a plant? Not even scented or remotely looks like a plant you can get on the local market. I imagine their parents are not proud of them. A sorry excuse for a child, a pathetic fake lump of plastic acting like what it is not. 

Come to think of it, this hunk of trash hanging in my room has been staring at me for years now. Does it judge me like I judge it? Probably so; I mean it is bitter. Imagine not being able to breathe in fresh crisp air much like a plant does. Being made in a factory only for your life purpose to be a house decoration or part of a college kid’s art project. This fake plant decoration is waiting for something to happen, perhaps the house burning down so they can finally feel the sweet release of being a damned fake house plant. What am I saying, this thing can’t even feel pain! This lifeless garbage in my room has no resemblance of a soul, just an empty shell. 

Taking a better look at this thing I call placeholder garbage, I am starting to see at what care was put into it. Who ever knew you could make a dead-skin-cell collector look almost as if it was a real thing. A sneaky disguise to almost fool a shopper into buying it until they take a whiff and say to themselves, “Yep that’s plastic.” Fake plants truly know how to put on such an outfit to hide such inner aggressive feelings towards themselves and others, especially this one. Even though it sits there not moving and lifeless, I can still feel the fake plant’s frustrating thoughts towards me and my cat who occasionally chews on it. 

Go on you filthy, wretched fake circus monkey of a plant; be that way. I will still be here sleeping soundly while you weep away all the troubles of being a dirty fake plant.