We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a true crime documentary marathon, a half-eaten bag of chips precariously balanced on your stomach. The only light in the room comes from the flickering TV screen, casting long shadows that dance across your equally messy living room.

And then, it hits you. That feeling. Like someone – or something – is watching you. You glance around the room, heart thumping a little faster than usual, and your eyes land on the one other living organism in the room – your plant.

The Side-Eye From My Sad Little Peace Lily

Okay, maybe “living” is a generous term for the sad specimen currently residing on my windowsill. It started out hopeful, a vibrant little peace lily promising to bring tranquility and clean air into my life. I, in return, promised to water it regularly and not kill it like the dozen or so houseplants before it.

Somewhere along the way, things went south. My once-perky lily now resembled something out of a Tim Burton film – droopy, with an alarming number of brown-tipped leaves. And it was on one of these particularly depressing evenings, surrounded by takeout containers and a mountain of laundry, that I swear my plant gave me the side-eye.

#Personal Essay