Me: My basil died.
The World: Who the hell is Basil? What did you do to him? Are the police involved?!
Me: No, asshole. My BASIL. The herb. My basil plant died.
The World: We’re…sorry for your loss?
Me: I think I killed it.
The World: Well that’s just unkind. Why did you kill your basil?
Me: I didn’t do it ON PURPOSE. I only had the damn thing for two freaking weeks.
The World: You killed a living thing in two weeks, and yet your demonic cats thrive. You are very confusing.
Me: Dude. I took SUCH GOOD CARE of that stupid plant. I watered it. I took it inside at night when it was cold. I whispered sweet nothings in its plant-y ear about how pretty it was.
The World: And?
Me: And it still fucking died.
The World: You should not ever have children.
Me: I don’t think that’s ever going to be a problem. I can’t even get a DATE.
The World: You can’t even get a PLANT.
Me: My chives, however, are doing FANTASTICALLY.
The World: *sigh* Chives are a bulb-based plant. They re-grow every year. You don’t have to do ANYTHING to keep chives alive.
The World: Although with YOU, plant-murderer, you should probably just not even LOOK at the chives. Avert your plant-killing eyes.
Me: I don’t feel that I deserve this kind of treatment.
The World: It’s better than your treatment of that poor innocent basil plant.
Me: It was TWO WEEKS OLD and it up and DIED on me! Do you know how that affects my already fragile self-esteem?
The World: Your self-esteem is being affected by a PLANT?
Me: a DEAD plant. I think it was suicide.
The World: Your basil plant committed suicide?
Me: Yep. It didn’t need watering, it needed a therapist.
The World: I think we’re done here.