My fruit basket

My fruit basket has been there my whole life. Some fruits came with it, some I could pick, some I ate until vitamin levels bursted in my blood, some I took a bite and spat it out, some got rotten and some disappeared forever without a trace.

My fruit basket was never empty. Nonetheless, it feels lighter than a feather most of time. Looking at it makes me sad, but there is no way to avoid it, as it might be the one thing that gives me an accurate notion of time passing by, for someone who has refused to wear a watch on the wrong wrist since childhood.

I try not to give much attention to my fruit basket. But there it is, changing both its content and its structure every second of every day of my life.

Growing up I have realised that maybe the structure is more important than the content. Fruits that end up in my fruit basket are somewhat unpredictable, a delicate mix of chance, timing, their choice and my efforts. But it is almost entirely my lack of care and emotional resilience that result in this ragged thin straw basket in front of me.

A strong, well-structured basket would bear the weight of more fruits, everybody knows that. But do I really want more fruits in the basket? I am not sure.

Some fruits are sweet and juicy by nature. Those are rare to find, and priceless to keep. Some are extremely hard to get, which makes them more valuable to the eyes of the market. Life taught me that market value does not necessarily mean real value, so be careful as you might overestimate their vitamin content and how much they can bring into your life. Some are bitter at first, but tend to become an addiction for some reason. Some are sweet in the beginning, and become bitter and bitter as the wind forces them out of the tree and birds keep attacking their peel from every direction and for no apparent reason. Some are irreversibly damaged by life, some can still make it. Some fruits have weird textures that defy taste buds and may elicit hate reactions and prejudices in those who are close-minded. Between fear and discomfort, admiration and understanding, these fruits tend to divide society that reacts by marginalising them out of their fruit baskets.

Some fruits have just the ideal weight to stabilise my fruit basket in all possible ways. Those are keepers. Others are just too heavy for my basket to carry them my entire life. Whether I want to see it or choose not to, those are ruining the fragile structure of my weak basket.

I know now that no fruit in my fruit basket is irreplaceable. I know that the time it has been there means nothing. I know the taste and sweetness of each fruit in my basket keeps changing. And I know that there is nothing I can do to make them stay there forever.

From now on, I know I must focus more on the structure of my fruit basket. As its holes have become bigger and bigger, and the fruits inside it seem to not have noticed.

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