The stories I carry

I'm called a pine, but humans call me the Carbon Tree. They are obsessed with how I breathe and trade carbon dioxide with the atmosphere, so they dressed me with some sensors to translate my life into numbers. Sometimes I feel like I'm just a living sum of data...so many of them come to look at me and they seem impressed. But I wonder - do they even know I'm a pine? Do they notice how beautiful my bark is? Do they care about me? Or am I really just a tool for them, a resource...