To describe someone as having “green hands” is a Libyan expression that refers to exceptional talent for planting seeds that consistently flourish. According to my mom, my hands were green. I cherished that honor as I assisted her in our backyard garden.

Around 20 springs later, the little assistant was miles and smiles away. I was feeling too depressed to lift myself and go to the bathroom and pee, so I ended up urinating in a plastic bottle under my bed. As I did, I looked at my basil plant across my untidy room; I had an idea to do something positive despite my misery. Even in my darkest moments, I’ve always found a way to bring light to others, thanks to my emotional intelligence that transcends the eukaryotic kingdoms. It could also be a fruit of my “I’m-fine” tree that I’ve been growing since I realized humans are not fans of the weak. However, it was more likely due to having an engine for helping others that doesn’t rely on serotonin to function. I wanted to breathe life into the basil pot by using my urine as fertilizer to feel a sense of purpose while I was deemed self-destructive. Little did I know that even the urine of the depressed is poison.

After pouring about three tablespoons of my urine into the pot, within three days, the basil leaves started to wilt, almost reflecting my withering state of mind. The realization that I was inadvertently causing harm to others motivated me to rinse out the basil plant pot. Unlike when I was going to shower, I didn’t feel heavy when going to the bathroom. I then took the struggling basil plant to the rooftop in hopes of having the photosynthesis revive my iatrogenic herbicide.

With a few days of rapid-cycling weather of rain and sunshine, the basil plant survived but had to shed off the damaged parts. I realized that while I could witness my decline, my depressive episodes became less powerful when I saw that others were being affected by the harm I was unintentionally causing. I heard before that the fear of causing immense pain and devastation to their loved ones is a powerful reason that prevents many individuals considering suicide from taking the irreversible step. I grabbed a pair of scissors and helped the basil plant by cutting off the dead parts. I felt a sense of connection as I did so. I planted myself back in my bed with the smile of a hero and his dirty brown hands.