A Dry Life

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It’s so dry…and yellow here. Powdery yellow, blowing in the wind. I wish I had a friend…and a drink. It’s so hard for me to ever get close to anyone. I always hurt them. Unintentionally poking and prodding when all I simply want is a companion. I imagine others with their friends, running, playing, interacting and having a good time and I can do nothing except sit here stationary.I’m green with envy. Maybe it’s because I have a rough personality and I just don’t stick right with others, but at least I have this flower. This flower brings me all the happiness in the world. It’s always by my side, looking incredibly pink and bright with dusty yellow blowing across the top. The flower loves me, and I love it. At this very moment, I poking my flower and am incredibly happy. For some reason, it’s wilting away. It feels extra dry out here, and it’s usually very dry. I feel like I’m dying, but my flower actually is. I’m growing with anxiety, maybe I’m next. I don’t want to die out here, but my only friend and hope is. I’m running out of will. I want to flail around and run away, but I can’t. I have to just sit here and watch my friend die. This is not fair. Why me? I’m drying out. This shouldn’t be possible. My green is fading to the color of the ground around me. The earth is swirling around me and consuming everything, including myself. My parents always told me to watch out for the storm, that it too took their great-great-great-great grandparents and it devastated the entire family. We did not shed a single tear, we just couldn’t. But here I am, my extremities being ripped apart before my very lack-of-eyes. Well, this is the end of my life as I know it. Sadly, today, I, a lonely cactus, died today. But at least you know my story.

                                                                    Sincerely,

                                                                             Prickly