A Mother Spurned

It is truly sad that we cannot have an actual conversation with our planet. If we did, it could hardly be called a conversation. Earth would be hurtling volcanos, hurricanes, coronaviruses at us. Anything it could find in front of it. And this is the scene that is playing out right now. We are in the kitchen, and there are all kinds of sharp objects around. It’s not looking great.

Things weren’t always like this. In fact, they didn’t start like this at all. When we were a young civilization, we were just a spoiled child. The one that always gets into trouble, that likes to discover things, to explore. The one that reaches for the cookie jar, just to see how much they can get away with. The petty thief. In broad terms, we were still within the range of “normal”. It was kinda cute. I guess we were “intelligent” too, able to make stuff, things, buildings, machines and so on. 

But then we started reaching into the Earth’s wallet when she wasn’t looking, putting a permanent dent in the family budget. We started killing off our siblings so that we can get all the attention. We started playing with matches, and almost burned the house down a couple of times. We were still super-intelligent, but at this stage we were already pretty full of shit to be perfectly honest.

And this brings us to today. Although Earth is our mother and, would give its life for us, as it has countless times, it doesn’t want to anymore. Because it doesn’t think it’s a worthy sacrifice. Because we don’t deserve it. Because we are an aberration. A monster. A mistake. 

But the kitchen “conversation” will never happen. The millions of species going extinct are not able to tell us that we are Hitler. That Earth has been turned into Auschwitz. We will continue to steal from the wallet, spending all the dosh on the most addictive drugs: profit, narcissism, vanity, Netflix and fake renewables.

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