I rebel, therefore I exist.

I rebel, therefore I exist. But I don't go and attack the tree's trunk knowing I could never rip it apart with my bare hands, without any weapon of my own. I brewed poison instead, and I poured it deep into the soil, deep into the roots, seeping in the hearth of the trees. The poor trees, tired of humans trying to rip them apart, would take it willingly, desperately even thinking of it as ambrosia. Little would they know this "ambrosia" would do them harm that a thousand axes couldn't. The venom would surge in their veins ever so slowly, so slowly and so peacefully that they wouldn't even notice the poison killing them within, or at least not until the venom had done it's work and slowly, ever so slowly. They would degenerate into the hell holes they came from. And it won't be until they take their last breath that they'd realize that the person who they thought was an incarnation of god, was the devil herself. And she won't even feel a twig, when the trees wither, twist and beg for help.

Because when she was a little girl, when she needed them the most, neither did they. She wasn't born a devil, rather smelted into one. She lived thirsty and dying the entirety of her life and so they died the death of a hydrated, full of liquid venom throbbing in their veins Living corpse. All the while they thought their little girl finally grew up and learnt to let go. She indeed, grew up. And learnt to let go, because she rebelled, therefore she existed.

Padmini Chudasama