Plastic Placidity

by Caroline Li

I often wonder how it all started.
As the clock ticks by, I am further separated from the moment of my creation, and the visions I have of my past are hazy and unclear. All I can be certain of is that there was once a time in which I was one with the Earth, akin to the essence of Mother Nature. Many events occurred even before that, I am sure, but my memory can only extend so far back.
A few eons ago, my innards were being swallowed up by a force that was not quite natural; a force that I now understand was created by People. I was then disintegrated into millions of little pieces, rolling around in an enclosed machine. These pieces were caught up in a cycle of being solidified and then melted, stretched and then folded, as I slowly materialized into a flat, transparent sheet. My surface rolled along rotating cylinders, and my sides were segmented off with the thrust of a blade. Perhaps I should take a second to explain my perception of People. In my eyes, People are animate creatures beyond my understanding, who seem to have unlimited agency in their actions. According to Mother Nature, People were the ones who chose to separate substances like me from the Earth and throw us into the tumultuous reality of existence. She had warned me that this would be my fate someday, and indeed she was correct.
The space that they confined me in was shared with a sea of other identical beings. We were referred to as “plastic bags”, and since I have no other terminology to identify myself with, “plastic bag” is the name I will use. We plastic bags lived inside this dark space for what seemed like an eternity. Technically, I was
in there for a much shorter duration relative to the amount of time I have existed, but I assure you that being stuck in a small, dark space drags out the length of each passing second.
There was no way to escape the growing feeling of insignificance within the universe. I was always being moved around and manipulated. We had all witnessed the efforts that People would go through to bring us into their world, digging us away from Mother Nature and ensuring that every one of us was a perfect clone of each other. We aimlessly sat around with no clue as to where we were headed.
One day, a crack of light appeared. A moving entity emerged above us and grabbed the plastic bag closest to the opening, bringing it out of the darkness. Since I was situated rather close to this opening, it was not long before the entity fetched me out as well. It plucked open the two pieces that bound me together and inserted a couple of objects inside. There was a long, solid rod that called itself a “pencil”, a pink, malleable rectangular prism that identified as an “eraser”, and a flat, colourful item that claimed to be a “sticker”.
It was surreal to meet the other products that People deemed to be useful. There were lots we had in common. We were all conceived in the presence of Mother Nature, taken away from the Earth and replicated in mass amounts. The People manufactured us into items that would serve their personal needs, and we had no say in the process. Our bond was strengthened by this mutual understanding and validation of each other’s experiences.
However, the People soon decided that I was no longer useful. The same entity that had placed my three friends inside of me seized them away from me in a flash. We didn’t even get the chance to properly say goodbye.
Being stuck in this infinite realm perpetuated by the People, with no control over my destiny, felt exhausting. I yearned for a day when all would be calm and stable, and I would be satisfied with my position within the universe.
I was flung into another dark space, this time even greater than the one before. Unlike the previous space, though, this one was filled with a heterogeneous variety of beings. An air of lifelessness and despondency surrounded us, as the knowledge that we were now unwanted trash slowly sunk in. Things didn’t change much from that point onwards. All the places that I’ve been since are similar to that last space, inhabited by slathers of unremarkable beings that the People had carelessly discarded. Those brief instants of joy spent with my dear friends now feel like mere speckles in the grand scheme of creation. Only for fractions of my existence have I felt like there was some meaning to this whole charade; the rest is a jumbled blur.
It has been perhaps another few eons since the day I was thrown away. I have encountered thousands, maybe millions of similar beings here in the placid abyss. The strange thing is, I have now achieved the calmness and stability that I once dreamed of; yet I am still not satisfied. The bleak atmosphere in this vast space is enough to drive any being mad.
There are a multitude of questions which I have pondered that will likely remain unanswered forever. Where have all the other plastic bags gone? Were their existences more fruitful? What about the pencil, the eraser, and the sticker? Did they serve a genuine purpose, and were they content with it? How many other beings like me are out there, situated amidst this peaceful chaos, waiting for our bodies to decay into the very same ground in which we were born?
Nonetheless, the most unbearable question of all; the one that scratches at my insides, refusing to accept its fate as forever ignored, is as follows:
When will we stop existing?
When will the universe spare us of our meaningless existence? When will People that the unending cycle of their consumeristic habits, the cycle that keeps on spawning more of us, will inevitably result in Mother Nature’s death?
I often wonder how it will all end.