history of my life in terms of produce
I suppose when you get down to it, every thing starts with a seed. Metaphorical or not, a seed is somewhat the key to life. From a seed, in of course my Mommy's Tummy or in the Land of the Storks or maybe just in someone's eye, I was born, roots prepared to develop into something magical and marvolous. As a little girl, I would have considered myself a sweet little cherry, always round red and bursting with that sweet energy like when you bite into a one. Perhaps I would have considered myself a pumpkin, rosy fall dreams of lying in a field of the Hallows Eve fruit at three years old. I'm not sure I was a brilliant child, but my metaphorical roots began to send nutrients to my six year old brain. My growth as a person, a vegetable, a lemon, avocado, squash, had begun. Middle school I was sort of orange, both the colour and fruit. The word 'orange' means crazy. At this stage in my life, a bud of a Somebody grew, much the same as everone else: not quite sure what ype of fruit I was going to turn out to be. I'm still not sure, now at sixteen, one sixth of my life past. Maybe I will be a pomegranet, all of the juicy seeds kept hidden inside, waiting for someone to dig them out. Maybe I will be a lime, spherical and tastes bitter like the word green but goes well with tequila. Maybe I won't be anything exciting at all; just a zucchini or asparagas, a cabbage or tomato even. But I could wish to be exotic and foreign, like paw paw or kiwi. So far, life looks well, as long as I don't turn into a bunch of grapes, that would be odd, or broccoli, euh...