Nature: (yawns)
Nature:
(yawns) Alright, humanity. My babies. That’s how you think of me, don’t you? That my energies are maternal. They provide “comfort”… and “soothing”. (Sighs) But let me clarify, first, dear. I am not your mother. You are not my child. I am not an asexual mess who couldn’t help but keep producing living beings for filial support. I am — also — not some kinda divine “creature”. I’ve been meaning to have this conversation for a while now, so listen closely.
I think of myself as… as you could say, an artist. No — A creator. Someone who builds. Someone who conjures invincible fallacies and breathes a soul into them. Now, the thing is… I did make you: with tissues, bones, blood, glands and the epithelial linings… and all that neuron structure around your body and everything. Darling, you look fabulous. Bless me, I did a great job. (Sarcastic eye roll) Yay… But I did not realize that you would, consequenly, turn out to be things with a semi-well-functioning brain.
After all, I did model you from those monkey ancestors of yours. Those creatures who eat their lice and scrutinize their egested by-products. And at first, it was a wild experiment. These ones seem quiet queer, I thought, with disenchantment. Wearing palm leaves and tree barks with intricate rock beads, dancing on club-funk pop. But then… I also realized you had a real brain. And that brain can cook up things. Mostly, things don’t exist.
And you, consequently, brought idealogical warfare (darling, if she worships inside a triangle structure or prays jumping on a trampoline, it ain’t deducting your merit), poetry, money (seriously? paper notes? promise-to-pay-the-bearer in what? other promise-to-pay-the-bearer notes? and gold? You’re insane, dude. That thing’s basically just for your cancer treatment. Stop making flower patterns on them and parading it everywhere!), and science(Darling, please aid in me comprehending, how do you decipher between the latter and magic without knowing what a charge is? It’s magic. It’s the magic that you can feel. Just accept it, for the sake of the humanmade lord), and the rest.
Then you brought synthetic stuffs — also: How dare you. Darling, besides the things in your head, you cannot “create” anything that doesn’t belong to me. You cannot make a metal plate and call it man-made(also, just in case you are wondering, energies don’t shag, so I ain’t your mama or your papa. I am every sex at once. Why say “man” initially though? Oh wait, nah. Patriarchy was basically you and that other animal… what was it? Chimpanzees… yeah. Your fraternal thing for male “domination” — one of my earthquakes and the man’s in a ditch of blood. *Snorts*) . I made the metal. I made the constituent atoms. Stop jeopardizing my creations as yours. You think you made concrete but I’ve made themthings and all of them are biodegradable. I’ve made you, for goodness’ sake.
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Although yes, I did never like you since the beginning. Donating me virgin women for “sacrifice” (vultures told me to thank you on their behalf, I won’t). Worshipping me with… what? The fruits and flowers? Giving me reproductive plant parts and vegetative people to do what with them? Feed my other creatures? Honey, take a pause. Wait… let me explain this a bit in your context. Gifting your “mother” (eye roll) her scarf back to her, does NOT make it a gift. Moreover, she might insist you go for a brain scan. The thing in that head is probably not working well. You think I “gave” you all this stuff? Nah, dude. It was just lying there. You used it, and I honestly don’t care that you did.
Yeah, I know. You think, OMG we utilize so much resources we’re super cool and amazing and — Ugh. Stop that. You’re not some special “angel”. And don’t give me that cross-planetary travel, reaching for the sun and the stars and the tallest skyscraper stuff. The ants have traversed more than you’ve done, probably. (They’re everywhere, don’t you think, honey?). And what did you do reaching on the moon? Saw water? Analyzed surfaces? Gathered info? Well, guess what, honey — You’re still gonna die before you hit 200. BUT MY CREATION LIVES. MY KNOWLEDGE LIVES. Of course, it does honey. But for how long? You’ll eat. You’ll piss. You’ll egest. You’ll do nonsense stuff to get promise-to-pay-the-bearer notes. And you’ll die. Most of you are already dead. Your feet walk on grounds covered with their dirt. Their scrapped skin, and gall-bladder linings. I have been here for the eternity, quite literally.
And let’s not start with the killings and the murders and the massacre as of yet. And there are those idealists. And the pseudo creators. You should call them builders, I think. They did not create. They merely built something out of something. To create, I reitierate, is my domain. I have a copyright on that word but of course I don’t have to do some kinda ideological justice. I am above all that nonsense. And mostly, I don’t care. Whatever you think you have is whatever I have made. So yeah, the trillionaires and billionaires are the dust under my thrones.
What I am trying to communicate here is this — stop anthropomorphizing me. I am not indebted to you. I don’t feel hurt or ashamed at you. I don’t care. Do you want me to repeat that, I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU. Recently, you’ve started to think, MY GOSH We’re totally detroying the planet. We’re like… super kinda bad but we’re like… gosh so good. We’re trying not to do that. Imma buy a sustainably sourced halo.
Simply put, you cannot destroy me. I have created rains of sulphuric acid. I have created bacterias that can sustain what you cannot even bear for a microsecond. I have created the tsunamis that will kill you in seven seconds. All it takes is one slight wave. I did all that, yeah. And not cause I got angry at you. (Mimicks old hag) O, ye foolish people! Take that! (back to Nature voice) Darling, I just… don’t care. Good, poor people died. So what? The bad and rich people will die to. The criminals will die. Their victims will die. Everyone of you will perish. How long do you think age-reversing will last? You don’t have the GUTS to endure forever. Plus, all it will take is a carton of petroluem and one matchbox to set your precious age-less body on fire. I can do it with one wildfire. Resources? Honey, I make resources. It’s my choice. If plants start shooting out of sky, don’t you dare get surprised. The scientist will find out what happened. They’ll explain it to you in a way you think you understand. You don’t know the actual stuff. Plants germinate “Like a machine” — fuel + mechanics = life, you think? Where did it get the fuel to start from? What’s energy? What is a charge? What is a gluon? A graviton? A photon? Make one of your own. Try. (eye roll) We’ll destroy nature! Shut up.
You can’t destroy me. You can destroy all the things and creatures you like, though. All my other stuff. You can kill important animals in the name of poaching and call it bad “for nature”. Release fumes and get trapped in the heat. Who’s temperature system won’t function? Who’ll have to live under regulated temperature conditions ALL THE TIME? Who’ll have a yacht and a NYC penthouse and still get swept off on Thai coasts cause of an unexpected Typhoon? You will. You’re the loser, sweetheart. And all that disaster of you is merely a change of season for me. It’s your season for now. There were the so-called “dinosaurs” — you know what I did with their children? Yes. Made them cowards. They cling to your housewalls and beg you to pay attention to them.
You can never destroy me. I thrive within things your mind wouldn’t comprehend could have a life. So yes. When you say climate change, remember it’s just a kind of change for me, and a disaster for you. Use your brain. Help yourself. Don’t expect me to do that. Remember… I will always be abundant. I will always flourish. And, you’ll be the one who gets destroyed.
