“I swallowed a seed, is a tree going to grow inside of me?”
Oh, grow up. Are you kidding me with this? Not only do you humans not think about anyone else but yourselves, but apparently no one pays attention in fifth-grade biology either. I understand those small ass kids asking stuff like that, but jeez louise, you’re way past that kind of thought process, buddy. You guys just love to make everything about you.
Well, I hate to break it to all of humanity, but it seems like you need to hear this—on behalf of seeds everywhere, the last thing we want to do is germinate inside of your stomach.
Us seeds have bigger and better things to do than stay in your small intestines, but thanks for the welcome invitation, assholes. I mean, you have literally never taken the time out of your day—running in and out of Target, zooming through Instagram stories, ignoring the dishes in your sink—to consider that I’M KIND OF BUSY, MAN. You know, creating life! Hell, dude, I’m life itself. Like, where’s the respect at? Instead, we constantly hear tiny humans and even the dumb large ones complain or “just joke” about the possibility of a watermelon seed growing as a tree inside of them. But we don’t need that.
It’s so difficult for seeds; the fruit gets all the love. They’re beautiful, they taste great, they’re perfect for snacking on during halftime at your soccer games. And then there we are, tossed aside because we’re a nuisance.
But you know what that is? That’s stigma, man, and it’s actively working against the seed community. Seeds aren’t evil, you guys (but do watch out for apple seeds because of that whole cyanide thing). We put up with so much but receive no love. Like, I’m sorry. I’m the bother. Here I am, such the inconvenience! A looming threat of growing into something big and beautiful inside of your precious human ecosystem! Um, have you picked up a history book? Do you know what you’ve done? I should be scared of you, you dingbats.
And like, I have dreams, okay?! I’ve got places I wanna go, soil I wanna dig in, dogs I’d love to swallow me whole and discard of me blocks away. You know, I’ve always seen myself growing into a beautiful tree on a grassy hill somewhere. Just me and my friends slowly populating and germinating in the open air. Fruit and seed living harmoniously, maybe one or two nice humans who actually respect us.
I am capable of growing branches and planting roots and having a life outside of a grocery store’s produce section, dammit. I deserve to experience life outside of your stigma and your intestines.
So come on, do you really think that I, a gorgeous seed full of immense potential, want to hinder my growth by spending all of eternity in your intestines? No thank you! Wasting away in a bed of stomach acid? I could never! It honestly stuns me that you have the audacity to assume I’d love to plant myself amid remnants of your mac-and-cheese and barely chewed hot dogs. It’s just incredulous for you to not only think we’d like to blossom in your bowels, but that we’d also somehow want to stay.
You can swallow me all you want, chew me up, and spit me out. Hell, sprinkle me with cinnamon-sugar and roast me at 365 degrees for 23 minutes—because I taste fantastic like that and I promise I’m moving right on through you.
Pfff. Like I’d stay and germinate.
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