Nobody sees me, and I may not be able to talk, but I hear every word they say. They probably think I don't understand; they think I don't care. I've come to understand that my days are numbered, but from what I see their days are numbered as well. I am a celery plant: root, stem, and leaves; living under Dexter's blanket. Nobody but Dexter and his mom know about me, and they're saving me for "a moment of true desperation". If you ask me, the moment is now, but I don't complain. At age 15 and 5'7", Dexter weighs 80 pounds and his mother weighs the same at one inch shorter. One day they'll finally consume me, but

We've lived like this ever since Dexter can remember, but not me. I remember long before this wretched hole we call home. I remember the farmer who planted me and the years and years of being cropped and regrowing again. It was very hard for me to tell, but indeed I noticed the sky growing more and more muddy year by year. Every year it seemed to me that the farmer's plot of land grew smaller, and the population of my fellow vegetables and fruits seemed to be decreasing as our land grew scarce. My first years I would grow tall and stiff, green as any blade of grass at the time. I had sunlight aplenty, and remember the rain tasting pure and good. Towards my final years in the dirt, I was warmer than ever before, but never felt the sun's light as I once had. The rain was sour and the earth from which I drew my nutrition was bitter. At first I had no idea what was happening, but from years of listening to Dexter's mother's stories and the conversations of our roommates I believe I have an understanding greater even than that of the men and women.

From what I've made of it, in days long ago, these rediculous beasts the hum

Some common words found in the essay are:
, It's I'm, land grew, days numbered,
Approximate Word count = 760
Approximate Pages = 3 (250 words per page double spaced)