Bamboo, the ultra trendy plant, or whatever it is, would seemingly be a perfect plant.
It doesn't seem to need any light, you can use it as dressing in your beta fish bowl, and you don't even need to water it that often.
I've somehow killed my bamboo.
How is that possible?
I am usually just not good with plants. I have no green thumb, though I do seem to have a death thumb, but you know I've won many a thumb wars with. Which you know, means no gangreen for me! Wooht!
I had a plant in high school which I named after my crush at the time, and rather sadly has lived longer than my crush who died two years ago from leukemia. Benjamin, and that's pronounced in the German way as Ben-ya-min, because he was German and I speak it, so you know...is actually flourishing amazingly well. The plant is taller than me now and really is like this mini tree in our dining room. I still can't believe my family moved it to Germany after graduation, but then my step-mom always did like the plant.
Essentially? The only plant that I didn't kill, and not only that, but did an awesome job in growing.
The Amazon that was doubling as a supposed house with furnishings when we first moved to DC? Didn't water the plants because I would kill them. The threat of having to pay for these expensive plants definitely kept me away.
Now I've killed the unkillable. Stretch left me her bamboo when she left town, and they were perfectly happy and flourishing. I was excited. Lovely, living decorations for free. Plus, doesn't everyone have bamboo nowadays? Stretch warned me not to overwater them. Which I was careful of.
The problem? I was in such a hung-over, frantic haze previous to leaving for break that I forgot to check the water level before I left.
I came back to brown, shriveled bamboo. There's like one stalk that is still healthy.
I've tried resuscitating them by watering them. Like plants can come back to life after death.
It's all so very sad.
I'm a fucking plant killer.