When I Woke Up, I Became My Home Planet Earth!

When my consciousness broke free from the chaos, I looked down and saw the familiar blue lines - they were the folds of the Pacific Ocean, the bulges of Mount Everest, and the star map embroidered by humans on my skin with lights. I became the earth. The two-legged creatures that I once regarded as dust are now connected with my breath in thousands of ways: some are planting seeds in the Amazon rainforest, some are lighting searchlights in the Mariana Trench, some are making wishes against the stars, and some are rebuilding their homes on the ruins. But they didn't know that the planet beneath their feet was opening its eyes. I heard the crisp sound of broken bones as the glaciers melted, smelled the choking smell of rust in factory chimneys, and felt hot even when I touched the craters left by the war. When human civilization carved deeper and deeper scars on my body, I began to think: should I be tolerant like a mother, or should I teach these "children" a lesson as a planet? What's even more weird is that the secrets buried deep in the earth's core, the whispers of ancient civilizations, and even the glimpses from the universe are creeping into my consciousness little by little along the cracks in the tectonic plates. It turns out that becoming the earth is the beginning of true loneliness - I carry the weight of all life, but no one can understand my heartbeat.