if you were a gasping New Mexican wasteland, I would learn how to irrigate, and I'd dig it all myself, I'd dig it with my fingernails until they fell off and then I'd use them as little shovels, I'd drain lake after river after ocean to bring life to you and when it was all said and done, when I was finally satisfied by your satisfaction, you'd remind me how without thirst, there would be no pleasure in drinking. you'd remind me of all of the animals and plants and earthly cycles that have been ruined by my actions. you would remind me how a life full of thirst might be more meaningful than a life full of drinking. and if you were you and your body was dying from cancer, or a car accident, or old age, couldn't you imagine that I would give you every single thing good about mine without thinking twice, that I'd render my own body completely useless until you had the bone marrow, or the normal amount of skin, or the kidney, or the blood. And when you finally were alive enough to part your lips again you'd tell me how if you could choose, you'd be dead because life isn't the same anymore, and how if people don't die then the newly born will have no place to go and how nothing's going to last very long this time anyway.
Ego Treadmill by AnnaV at TeenInk