Neville.

I think Neville hates me.

Neville is my plant. The plant I got for Christmas. The plant that sits on my desk in the library.

I'm always poking him to see if he's dying. I think he's getting kind of sick of me fussing and clucking over him. But I keep finding little dead leaves on him!

Sometimes I forget to water him, then I try to make up for it by giving him extra next time. But he spits it all out.

I'm doing all I can here, buddy! Work with me!

I'm a little afraid of Neville. I think he senses that fear and uses it against me. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he just up and died, just to upset me.

Am I overthinking this relationship?