Gaia's Grievances

I woke up in a cold sweat again.

My body was half in, half out of the blankets, my nylon shorts riding up my thigh in a desperate attempt to cool my overheated skin. My shirt was glued to my back, my long blonde hair bleached with perspiration as if I had taken a shower the night before.

The puddle I laid in could easily be classified as an oasis fit for feathery white herons to fish from.

The heating at my apartment complex is the cause of all this. It is freakishly frigid in the winter, and I have to layer blanket after blanket on myself to even sleep through the night. In the summer, it's as though I live in my very own Death Valley. There's no in between, and I'm positive the landlord does this on purpose to get us to turn on our heating and cooling implements.

I, however, refuse to ever meddle with them. It's far too expensive. With each hour of having my heater or air conditioner running, a massive twenty dollar divot forms in my pocket. Overnight, I would lose all the cash I had made that day.

And, you see, that's why I'm writing this.

It's May, the month us humans celebrate the wonders of motherhood. We thank the women who brought us into this world by giving them presents, bringing them breakfast in bed, and pampering them so they feel appreciated for all the hard work they do. My birth mother died years ago, so I have never given much thought to this holiday.

But then I woke up today at three in the morning and realized there is someone I need to thank this year--someone all of us should thank but never do. That's you, Mother Earth.

I doubt anyone has ever written you a letter. I assume no one has ever even spoken to you the way I am now, and because of that I'm unsure if you understand the human situation.

You're a beautiful specimen crawling with unique creatures, emerald foliage, and shimmering bodies of water, and I've always imagined that your mind is just as majestic. I bet you think the humans you made a long time ago are kind and generous and that they take care of you just as much as you have taken care of them. I think you imagine about us because you cannot see us. You daydream about carefree children playing with your animals, potential lovers sniffing your flowering plants, and wonderstruck sailors admiring and exploring your oceans and lakes.

I wish I wasn't the one who had to tell you this. I wish I could keep humanity's secret that we have kept from you for so long but, tonight, I feel as though I owe you this much.

Humanity is bad.

Beautiful moments do exist, but more often than not? Humanity is just ugliness. Every day, there are people all over your planet who hurt each other for the stupidest reasons. Children bully the kids who have something special about them. Adults cheat on their spouses and lie in their favor in the courtroom. College students drink and drive and end up crashing into the cars of innocent bystanders.

We are cruel, greedy, and manipulative. I feel so guilty about it.

I told you I didn't want to turn on my air conditioner because of the expenses on my part--not the ones that would aid in destroying you.

I suppose that's another secret we have held from you. Within a few more years, you'll be gone.

You're dying, and it's all our fault.

The exhaust from the millions of cars we run each day poisons your perfect atmosphere. Our trash cans overflow with garbage that we could be reusing, but instead we dump it on your hills and pretend that our actions have no consequences on your climate. We flip on our leaky air conditioners and ruthlessly punch holes in your protective ozone layer--all for the sake of our own comfort.

We're killing you, and in turn we are killing ourselves.

There is a small part of me that is fine with this. I said it. Feel free to judge me all you want, because you should. This part of me is perfectly content with the way of life that I live. I love the drive to work every morning. I love the convenience of trash cans and the people who take them away so I don't have to deal with it. I would love to sleep without sweating all over my mattress because of my cooling air conditioner, without having to clean my sheets every single morning because they smell like I ran a marathon the night before.

But then I see the reminders. All over the news, they say:

"Bangladesh is now the most polluted country in the world, other countries are soon to follow..."

"The deforestation crisis in Nigeria is causing wildlife to lose their homes..."

"Human overpopulation is becoming a serious problem..."

"Western lowland gorilla now faces extinction..."

"Plastic in the ocean..."

"Melting icecaps..."

"Fossil fuels..."

All I can hear is the hundreds of ways that we're all going to die. All the reasons why we deserve this cruel fate.

You don't deserve it, though. You made us. You made all of this. You created a place where life could live, do you understand? There's no other planet like you, where fish can swim in the water, monkeys can shoot down bunches of bananas, and migratory birds can fly high in the sky before winter comes.

You're truly one of a kind.

I wish I could make it all better. I wish I could hit reset and bring the world back to where it was millions of years ago before we ever existed. Before we started hurting you.

But I can't give that to you. You'd have to speak to Father Time about that. Tell him I said "hey."

This Mother's Day, all I can really give you is an apology.

I'm sorry,

From the entire human race