They call me water. I go by other names as well: the ocean, the sea, rivers, even H2O, but the most common one is water. Everyone needs me. I’m essential for life, which makes me a sort of celebrity on this planet. I’m everywhere––in the air, in the ground, in food, on every continent, even inside of you, but somehow, not everyone can have me. Some places I visit, I get dirtier than others, and they can’t have me, or else they get sick. I watch them quietly, from the gutters in the streets, whenever I take a cloud to come visit, and they slowly die, because they can’t reach me. It feels terrible. To watch someone that needs me die without me, I mean. There are so many places in this world where I have to lie there and they can’t reach me, or I’m not clean enough, or they can’t find me anywhere. I wish I could help them. I really do. But wishing only gets you so far.