Which fruit did you choose to be? Which place did you choose to lie down in: a fresh fruit selling stall or an over-advertised tetra pak? If you think of the above-specified questions to be metaphorical ones, your thoughts appear to be on the right track to me. I have found my answers to these, but we can continue until you find yours.
Which fruit did you choose?
The guava has innumerable seeds, papayas smell offensive, the bananas are sticky, I chose to be a pulpy orange. I specify the qualities of each of these fruits here to establish the authenticity of the fact that my discretion is based on valid reasons, and I expect you to do the same while you answer this question.
What motivated you to be an orange?
The vibrant display on the tetra pak; For years I have seen how my ancestor oranges went on in their path towards being “a successful orange.” They were plucked, transported, polished, sold, processed, and finally, they entered into a well-marketed tetra pak, with a firm tag on their fronts. The tag urged me to follow their footsteps.
How was your journey towards attaining the desired end?
Brought up with extensive caressing, regular checks, watering, pest control, I grew into a sweet, fluffy orange. But Joan Didion had once remarked,” It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends.” The changes in my life, likewise, crept on me without much notice. Once I had been plucked from the farms, I found myself being transported to a place with unknown faces about, being forced to mix with other ingredients around. It suffices to say that I was transformed against my will and placed on the racks of a freezing supermarket refrigerator. Although my goal of acquiring a tag which said: ” Real Fruit Orange Juice” got accomplished, my nutrients began to freeze, losing their natural capacity in the artificial 0-degree cooling. I kept waiting for the right hand to absorb my nutrients but my immunity gave up; I swelled up as a tetra pack, followed by being discarded in the storage bin.
What did you think of such an incident happening?
I adored the sunlight but desired the freezer. The sun gave me my identity but the freezer? It gave me respect.
What could have been another choice?
A vendor’s stall is all I needed; I could have reached a poor boy’s hand while he starved or could have been presented as a warm gesture to a person recovering in bed, utilizing the best of my nutrients. I prefer anything productive over being branded as “fresh and newly arrived” while I still had brown patches inside.
So as you reach this point of the conversation you must realize how thriving for a label ended this orange nowhere but in the bin. But we should stay relaxed acknowledging the fact that we aren’t fruits: we have brains and we have mouths. I don’t wish to end up in the tetra pak with a label anymore; I need the sun to nourish myself. I wonder if you too dreamt of being a tetra pak once? Or, if you still want to be one? You will find the answer to these once you answer my first two questions. Answer wisely. 
