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Apples
Everyone has made a bad choice and we will all continue to make them. Some to learn, others out of stupidity and pride; it's a fact of life that no one can avoid. In my short brutal life I've found that it was my born talent. There were the kids who could lay soccer, the girls who played the piano. Well I was the kid who'd decide to imitate an ostrich and bury my own head in the sand. I guess you could say I started out young. And unfortunately you find out the choice was bad only once it's too late to go back, in my case once you've inhaled half a sandpit. To make a bad choice however, you need to make it in the first place, and sometimes that's just as hard to deal with than the repercussions of your decision.
Opportunity is like an apple. I know what it sounds like but it does make sense.
Tantalizingly juicy, lips ripe-red like the apple that could tempt the most saint-like of creatures. Perfection. From the smooth supple curves of it's surface, down to the smallest of flickers of shades of colors upon it. Round, smoothed shined charming you in under its spell. To simply hold the tiny treasure would be heaven but to bite into it seems like sin. Eve and the snake all over again, luring Adam to take a bite and relish the forbidden fruit, its crisp texture fresh in your parched mouth like it would have been for Adam, the flavour exploding in your mouth, awakening your tastebuds.
You feel alive for the first time; feel connected to something for the first time. The simple thought of it jumpstarts your saliva production and you find yourself licking your lips in anticipation. So consumed by what you see that you don't stop and think about what it might really taste like until you've bitten into it. You don't know if the concealing appeal of the outside will only reveal decay and the creeping stench of unlovable maggots eating at it's heart. It's a gamble.
There are two types of people on this earth. The ones who watched Snow White as a child and those who didn't. There are those people who bite the apple without a second thought, ready to savour anything new, who don't consider the consequences of such an act. And then there are others like me who spent entire afternoons glued to the TV set watching hour after hour of all the joy that Disney could bring. They know the fairytale; weary from past misfortunes when they'd received a sour green apple instead of the rosed tang of the red they'd lusted for.
The kind of person that stops when the apple looks too good to be true. They don't take the chance of taste, choosing instead to keep their distance; simply admiring its beauty from afar. Touch, sight and sense of smell, the senses are nothing when missing the stark and sharp crackle of the apple giving way beneath the pressure of your mouth. Engulfed by warmth and softness, missing the flavor of fall. By not taking the chance you won't ever get the bad apple, but it will drive you insane knowing that you'll never know.
Sooner or later the apple will start to rot, from the inside out. It's too late for you to do anything except watch it decay, watch the fuzz like hairs begin to expand upon it's once smooth red finish that has turned brown. That's exactly how I feel like now. And all I can do is watch.
Max had always been my apple. For over a year I protected her, kept her to myself, safe and secure. I polished, refined its finish and watched it shine. She was my treasure, my bounty. To have her snatched away from me when Manticore took her was mind numbingly painful. I didn't eat, I didn't sleep; it hurt too much to move so I just sat there. The sun went up and then sun went down, and still I sat there.
When I got her back it seemed like all my prayers had been answered.
An insurmountable obstacle stopped me from claiming her flavor. The virus.
I was left to watch her again, but this time my treasure was kept away from me, at arms length. When her cover was stained and dusted, I couldn't polish her like I'd once been able to, mere breaths could not comfort the way touch can. And though my mind forbid me from believing it for a long time, I knew that she was rotting, from the inside out. I was losing her.
That fact is fully clear to me now.
It was only a matter of time till someone else found her and took her away from me. Someone who could touch her, clean her and protect her, the way I'd been able to, someone who hadn't watched Disney cartoons as a child, someone with the guts to taste her.
To say I'm not hurt would be a lie, to say it doesn't feel like someone's fist is wrapped around my heart making it painful to simply beat, straining against the force that's pressing down on it. My lungs are being smothered, my throat constricted feels too tight and my eyes prickle with moisture. It hurts; it's painful slow torture keeping me in agony. But I can't say I am surprised.
She doesn't belong to me anymore, but maybe she never did. How can such beauty be property?
I turn away from them, from what I don't want to see. My steps are slow and deliberate as I get into my car and gradually I pull away from the kerb, and drive away. Going anywhere away from here, away from this place, anywhere to escape the present.
Thoughts lingering upon the forbidden the fruit, the delicacy I never got a chance to experience and the regret that will haunt me forever.
A/N: So come on guys. What do you think? Did I manage to capture Logan? Obviously not like some fics which I've read but come on cut me soma slack, it was my first time. Please read and review me.