The Survible

Journal Entry #1: Date Unknown

I have a theory. Plants are what you put into them. Like a mirror or something.

Think about weeds. Like Kudzu, or whatever. Poison Ivy. The ones we tried the hardest to destroy tried the hardest to destroy us, and I don't think that's a coincidence.

We made them fight harder, started an arms race by choosing sides. And they weaponized. Go team plant. Makes you wonder why people didn't like them more. Everyone loves an underdog story.

Then on the other hand, you got plants we tried to take care of. Flowers that didn't smell too bad or smell too strongly, vegetables that were easy and gave us a lot of food, fruits that were sweet and colorful. These ones, we took care of, singled out and brought out of the wild into our lives and these plants lost their thorns and their defenses and concentrated on making us happy.

I think people were the same way. I guess the ones that're still here still are that way. You gotta be careful when you go into towns, malls, anything that used to be urban, cause there's always people there.

It's just so weird, because it seems like the nicest people are the loneliest. And all the ones that live in groups and things, like the gangs, all seem to be the meanest. But everyone says we were social animals, that we were born to live like that, like in herds and stuff. But to me that's just saying that we were supposed to be forced into being jerks. I think people do better on their own. You don't gotta fight for anything, so you don't gotta be mean. You just use what you need and nothing more and it's in your best interest to leave behind enough for another day.

Like plants. Kudzu chokes out everything in its path because it's been forced into a life of fighting for survival. So it multiplies, like a group of humans, and slash and burns its way through everything because it can't leave extra cause someone will take it.

I dunno what to compare us loners to. Are we trees? Like lone oaks standing guard in empty fields? I could be a tree, I think. But I'd rather be a willow than an oak. Willows get to swish and twirl in the breezes and they're more than just an upright shape.

Maybe we are treepeople. Treeople. That just sounds like Tree Pole. Maybe if I get to the point of wanting to name my home, I'll call it Tree Pole. A place named after an idea can't be killed, right? It'll endure. I want to endure. That's why I'm writing this. I could say it outloud to get the words out of my head but then they're gone. Like the wind. I need them to stay, cause I need me to stay. At least long enough for life to return to normal.

I live in an idea. Words are wind. People are plants.