The first thing I remember is being surrounded by fluff. I was a tiny water droplet, clinging to the edge of the raincloud as I peered down at the world below. Excited chatter of my friends of my friends about the journey ahead permeated through the entire cloud. Some were nervous, others curious. I was excited. The vast earth, sprawling under my raincloud called to me. I yearned to explore it all.  

“Be patient. It’s not as beautiful as it seems,” a nearby water droplet, older and rounder, murmured to me. Patient? I couldn’t be patient. The world was right there, and I was meant to see it. 

Finally, the time came. The wind stirred and picked up its pace, the rain cloud darkened. I felt a pull, tugging me down, tumbling and twirling with a thousand others. I landed with a gentle splash into a cool and clear mountain stream. Buoyed by my fellow water droplets along the swift current, I could see the pebbles beneath me, light reflecting along its surface. Litle green plants swayed in our wake, waving its fronds. Drifting along, I marveled at the beauty of this pristine world.  

“Welcome!” one of the plants waved, her fronds brushing against me. “Isn’t it lovely here?” 

“It’s incredible!” I cried, basking in the stream’s purity. “I could stay here forever!” 

The plant chuckled softly. “Oh, little one. Streams like this are rare now. Enjoy it while you can.” 

Her words puzzled me, but the current carried me forward before I could ask more. 

At first, the changes were subtle. A faint tint in the water, unnatural, carried by the current. My fellow droplets drifted further apart as we moved downstream. The shimmer of sunlight faded, gradually replaced by shadows of debris floating lazily above. Then came the smell, sharp and acrid, seeping into every part of me. A blanket of sludge covered the pebbles underneath. I realized we were no longer in a stream. We were in something corrupt, something dying. 

“What’s happening here,” I gasped. 

“This isn’t a stream anymore,” a weary fish croaked, his voice trembling. His scales were dull. “It’s a graveyard.” 

“But why?” I asked, panic bubbling in my voice. 

“Because they don’t see us,” he rasped, circling a patch of oil slick. “To them, we’re invisible. Just water. Just fish.” 

 
I searched the fish’s eyes for a glimmer of defiance against the ruin, some spark of survival, determination. but all I found was emptiness. A hollow acceptance of a fate I didn’t yet understand. My excitement dissolved into something cold and heavy. For the first time, I felt small, insignificant.  

The stream began to flow, more and more water droplets pushing forward the current swelled, pulling me along a dark tunnel. The stench was overpowering. We were in the sewer. The water was thick with waste and the chemicals stung my surface, ravaging my insides. Pain erupted all over my body. I tried drifting away, but the current held me tight, dragging me deeper into the filth. Foreign particles attacked relentlessly against my body, trying to cleave me apart. I thrashed, fighting and struggling to keep my form.  

“Why would they do this?” I cried 

“Because they don’t see us. They only see convenience. Humans send their filth here, but it doesn’t stay. It spreads.” a voice whispered, hollow and faint. I turned, seeing another droplet, its shape twisted and cracked. “The world is dying, choking on itself. No one is coming to fix it.”  

Eventually, I was spat out of the sewer into the vast ocean but the scent of rot and decay, the hideous touch of chemicals still clung to me. I was being poisoned, bit by bit. Around me, the waves were littered with plastic, even here, in the depth of the ocean, the taint of plastic was unescapable.  
I passed a turtle tangled in nets, its movements weak and labored. “Help me,” it pleaded faintly, its voice barely audible over the crashing waves. But I was helpless, too small to free it. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling. The plastic floated on, unstoppable. An open wound across the ocean, as if the world had lost its will to heal itself. 

Days passed; the sun lifted me into the sky once more. My body lightened, but my spirit did not. The raincloud above me trembled as we gathered again. For a moment, I wondered if we had the strength to resist, to break free of the cycle. But even as the thought flickered, I felt it: the weight of poison still clinging to me, the weight of neglect. The earth below called out in despair, and I knew we would fall again. Again, and again. The stream would wait, more lifeless than before. I couldn’t decide what scared me more—that this would never end, or that someday, it might.