The Orange

Today as I watched a pot of water boil I decided to eat the very last piece of fruit in my fruit bowl: an orange. I leaned against the counter taking my time as I peeled the orange, which is unusual for me. As I began to pry the orange open with my thumbs I encountered the gruesome scene that was the inside of the orange; it was black and grey, like something had taken up residence inside it and died shortly after.

I threw the orange on the counter out of surprise. I then picked the orange back up for a second look. It was the same as before. I threw the orange in the trash along with the peels. I washed my hands twice... the obsessive compulsive side of me taking over. by the time I finished, the water had begun to boil.

That orange was a perfect representation of how I often feel about life. No matter how much effort and care you put into something, in the end you're rewarded with the pleasure of knowing someone else got to enjoy it first, or worse, more. So yeah... I'm pretty depressing.

But when I told a friend of mine the story he asked me, "What are you going to do about it?"

What am I going to do about it...?

I've been trying to answer that question for years now.