I’m a ceramic planter without the plant. Just a ceramic, circular bowl of dirt. Only because I want to be. There are people who do so many extraordinary things. Fairies, orcs, robots, vampires, wolves with anthropomorphic humanoid bodies. It all seems so complicated and overwhelming. I’m just happy with Monday morning sunshine and glossy dew. When everyone leaves for work, there’s hope that a seed will sprout from me. I’m happy being a simple thing that everyone passes by and thinks less of. A planter with nowhere to go.

Self-image has run amok. Pride has become the primary characteristic for every modern human who wishes to become something else, anything besides themselves. Those of us who were greedy and used the transformative power of trans-human nano transmogrification found it all too easy to become not who we wanted to become but what we wanted to become. Originally objects weren’t even an option at the trans-human centers. People complained of course, since robots were technically objects. As it goes with so many complaints the trans-human expanded their options to include anything humans could dream of.

I spent a lot of time researching this trend, the need to be something else. In hindsight it seemed a waste of time. After all being a plant pot meant, I didn’t need to worry about anything, even human existence. People were people and despite our differences we have the same desires and needs. During times of peace, we tend to need something to hate, something to fear, despite our need to pretend that these things don’t exist. We hide the truth until we subconsciously turn our hatred inward. We needed hate to feel alive, to feel something other than uncertainty.

Those of us who were tired of the constant bickering between the expanding races, genders, sexualities, body types, animals, and super heroes decided to rid ourselves of this turmoil all together. Some became cups of water, some of us turned ourselves into alcohol, and others became sex toys. I chose a ceramic pot because it was the first thing I saw when I turned away from the daily news with a story about how a group of squirrels found it racist that they couldn’t find acorns at local stores, and looked out my window.

It was either a plant pot or the rake sitting near my shed. The pot seemed more content and had more potential since anything could grow in it. Self-esteem and self-doubt wouldn’t be a problem. I wouldn’t be in control of my life and that gave me confidence. I didn’t need to worry about the future or if someone would decide to mock me for my beliefs because I had no beliefs.

That was when the animal playgrounds were developed. Not so much playgrounds really and more of a state park or sectioned forest area. The animal trans-humans were given free range to roam and “be themselves.” Government officials felt this was a better option than letting wild predators roam city streets. Suddenly everyone wanted their own playground. Vampires were given an island in Guinea-Bissau. Fantasy creatures didn’t want to lump into the animal playgrounds so they were given an endangered species habitat. Slowly these places became further breeding grounds for more complaints and internal strife. No one was ever satisfied.

I wanted out, of course. The world was descending into madness and pride. Initially I chose to become a ferret in the Shianne National Buffalo reserve, hoping no one would pester me. The transmogrified buffalo created their own clans and formed political parties, one side arguing that the other ate too much grass. They even developed their own derogatory slang for each other, the buffoloons and the dummoboons. It became too much when one side denied the other group’s existence on the Buffalo news channel. That was when I decided that it would be my best option to join the Inanimate Object Playground and become a ceramic pot.

The first seed that I asked to be planted was the peace lily. I felt it appropriate, considering all the hatred that had become rampant. It drove me crazy to think about people giving financial backing to the groups that didn’t have their best interests in mind. The peace lilies were beautiful while they lasted. But over the winter they died off and nothing else would grow. I wasn’t able to plant anything else since I didn’t have tools or even hands. It was a simple life and I’ve been happy ever since.

Several civil wars broke out between the playgrounds which became known as “the warring territories.” Vampires fought with ghouls. Robots fought with winged angels. Unicorns fought everyone else, to prevent being slaughtered for their horns. That was the last of the conflicts that I was able to hear. The object territory became less sought after and no one wanted to be here because they felt it was too depressing. Depression. That also seemed to be a major motivation for so much conflict. Despite unrivaled peace for decades, they needed someone to hate so they could feel less empty inside. They had no idea that it was their own demons that they needed to slay, not each other.

The hurt, the sadness, the jealousy, the paranoia, the desperation, the delusion, and the separation. They will never be satisfied. If they manage to conquer these terrible feelings and learn to let go there might be some hope. But as I feel the breeze against my soil I realize the truth, that we’ll never be satisfied. If only we could learn to live as inanimate objects. Then we would have nothing and everything.