On the Particular Grief of Losing a Houseplant You Didn't Even Like
It wasn't that I loved the fern. It was that I had kept it alive for three years through sheer spite, and now it was gone, and I had to reckon with what that said about me.
I bought it at a gas station in 2023 for $4.99. It was already yellowing at the tips. The woman at the register said 'good luck with that one' and I took it as a challenge. I named it Gerald.
Gerald and I had an understanding. I would forget to water him for two weeks, feel guilty, overwater him, and he would survive anyway, just to spite us both. It was the most stable relationship I had that year.
A Brief History of Every Time I've Said 'I'm Fine'
A forensic analysis of the phrase that has carried me through approximately forty percent of my adult life.
The first recorded use was in 2009, when my mother asked how I was doing after a particularly bad haircut. I was not fine. The haircut looked like someone had lost a bet. But I said 'I'm fine' and we moved on, and I think about that haircut sometimes.
Since then I have deployed the phrase in at least three hundred distinct situations, ranging from 'mildly inconvenienced' to 'actively crying in a parking garage.' The phrase is load-bearing. I do not know what I would do without it.
The Haunting of My Google Search History
There are things I have searched at 2am that I will take to my grave. This essay is about the other ones.
Last Tuesday I searched 'is it normal to feel sad when a candle burns down' and then immediately searched 'how long does a 12oz candle last' as if the second search would undo the first. It did not.
My search history is a portrait of a person who is mostly fine but occasionally spirals. The algorithm has noticed. It keeps recommending me documentaries about hermits.