It’s been a long time since someone has read my entries, or heard my voice clearly. I’m sure there are people in the world they’ve created on my own who want to hear me, but I guess they’ve not found the time to care too much to listen. I’m sure there are people in that world who have seen my plight, but not seen enough to want to continue the search. I’ve heard so many people talk about me, but very few of them continue on with the brilliant plans they think up of to save me.
I’ve not given up on the world. Even now, I haven’t lost my faith, my hope. But I fear that it’s the world that is giving up on me.
I’ve not found myself the time to heal, it seems that every time I take a step forward to recover, the people that I’ve given myself as a home to take a dozen steps backwards. My body aches, and I am not certain that I want the disasters that plague humanity to continue, but how can I tell those who dig their own graves that their actions are what drives me to ruin? There was a time that I wished they would stop acting in their hubris, for my sake, but now, I merely wish they stop for their own. I’ve felt more sorrow than anger in these past years. More sadness, than frustration. It’s been a century of malaise, of suffering, wars of extermination, neglect of my body through pollution, waste, fire and brimstone on my very surface, yet in terms of my own lifetime, it is but a second. It’s ironic, how a second of existence has made me suffer more than what I have in a thousand years. When the bombs fell on my surface, it was not mankind alone who died, I could not be touched there for so long, by any creature who calls me home.
Hello, are you still here?
I am sorry if I take too much of your time. I truly am. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But every second you stop to listen, I hope I can change your mind about the way you feel about me. I’m not your enemy. I’m not your burden. I don’t want to be either. But you’re making me both, so would you please let me be?
I used to be sustainable, something that could endure eons upon eons of time, and persevere through the shifts in space, the endless mysteries of this galaxy and those beyond my comprehension. But I fear that my luck is running out. I am not your mother, nor your family, but it is I who gave my heart to you, my everything, to keep you alive. I have not said a word about your use of me; you are still welcome to rob me blind. But please, find a moment to be in my place. I am dying. Slowly, but surely. I only hope you take this moment to think about my plight. I cannot speak of what can save me for certain, but I only want you to know that I need saving. You are better than I in thinking up strategies; I am merely the mission you should be strategizing towards. Atleast, I hope you will. When my branches and leaves are torn asunder, when my oceans, my tears run dry, perhaps then you may find the time for my happiness. It’s not my responsibility any longer; I can’t carry this burden on my own. I need you now more than ever.
Hello, can you hear me? This is not my last message, but I’m slowly getting there. I hope you hear me soon. I won’t be able to speak for much longer.