Rating : Pg. Read it anyway.
Yes, there is a point to this mad rambling.
I hope you can understand what I'm trying to convey to you.
Yes, you. Whoever you are. Because it is with my writing that I can connect with you, right now in this moment. I want to show you things you've never considered, never believed, never realized.
I aspire to inspire.
So yes, You. You are who I write for.
Read this with an open mind and an open heart.
How to see Ambiguity in Tomatoes
Ambiguity had never failed to enthrall Sasuke.
In a world where the minimum expected of him was awe-inspiring displays of intelligence, the loopholes and dark crevices that existed in ambiguity were a welcome relief.
Achievements were met not by praise, but by commands to aggrandize further. To be erudite; to be unique; to be what no one else was, seemed impossible. Was impossible.
But how is a 10-year old to know when he's crossed the line from over-achiever to perfectionist? The difference is not slight, it transcends oceans and reverberates in empty rooms and peoples' minds and hearts because it is more than a simple concept or belief. It is something that takes you over, until the simplest of pleasures become a struggle to be best; anything sleazy was unacceptable.
Always best.
Having a natural propensity towards one thing or another is of no interest to those who only expect perfection. They value what they value, you are merely a catalyst for them to work with.
The aura around this 11-year old is more than a black mess of depression and scurrilous hate. It is a swirling tangle of gossamer words and aspirations and hidden loves and exaggerated hates and sedulous assertions that mean nothing to the experienced.
They know it is impossible to infer personalities from words colored by a resilient mindset that has more cracks in its foundation than are easily admitted.
At age 12, suddenly everything was different. It was easier to remonstrate with not only other people, but himself. Suddenly list after list of words became contraband, and as all forbidden things; he wished he could use them more than anything.
Words enthralled Sasuke as much as ambiguity, since they went hand in hand.
This was easily his strongpoint, because he could spit amorphous words from his mouth and let other people do his work for him.
But one word he despised more than any-
"Explain." He didn't even give the blond a hope, turning and stalking off; as he is want to do when faced with impossible demands. But how was such an insular person to know that some things were absolutely inscrutable?
Age 13 was when ambiguity crashed head on with reason and left behind a trail of disaster in its wake.
Finite trembles rippled up pale arms as blunt nails dug fiercely into the soft skin of the tomato. Black hair cast deformed shadows across a stricken face whose gaze could not be pulled away from the way his finger twirled the green stem around and around without breaking.
The sky looked like nothing short of a comical representation of Armageddon, each tree's shadow lingered over the ground like a lover's kiss and the cold air that swirled in the clearing only increased the beating of each of the two boy's hearts. Their every breath was as short and irrevocable as their very first, and the glistening beads of sweat that ran down their arms from the many hours of passionate training only chilled them more.
It was anything but querulous, anything but what it was. It was the essence of ambiguity, the deafening silence that exists in promises unsaid and lamentations unheard.
"I never knew you liked tomatoes."
Sasuke would not meet his eyes.
"They are supposed to be fruits, you know."
Sasuke clutched the small red bud tighter.
"But it can be a vegetable if you want it to."
A trickle of thick red juice dripped down the side of the tomato languidly. The blond was suddenly in front of him, peeling Sasuke's hands away from his prize.
The blonde smiled, tilting his head to the side childishly; Sasuke was struck by how young they really were.
Sasuke watched as the other hid the tomato behind his back and grinned wickedly. He then revealed the bleeding bud slowly with a loud proclamation of "Vegetable!".
Sasuke realized how ridiculous the blond was.
Then the other repeated the motion, but with a more hushed statement.
"Fruit."
The tomato was still a red bud of bleeding life, looking exactly the same as when it had been defined a vegetable. It was seated innocently in the palm of the other's hand, looking up at Sasuke in the way a young toddler looks up to its mother.
"If you say it's a fruit, it's a fruit."
Sasuke couldn't tear his eyes away from the tomato.
"If you say it's a vegetable, it's a vegetable."
Another drop of juice made its way down the side.
"No matter what you label it, it doesn't change."
Sasuke wondered if he bled like the tomato did, slowly and perfectly.
"Wouldn't change."
He wondered if he could be peeled apart as easily as the tomato's fine skin.
"Shouldn't change."
Naruto smile was finite but infinite; and the closest example to ambiguity Sasuke had ever seen that could move and breathe and feel and love .
Sasuke would have fallen to his knees and let those contraband words pour out of mouth; he would have run forward and taken back that imperfect little tomato and hugged it until his shirt was covered in its blood; he would have shouted and screamed up to the sky that he realized was Armageddon only if you wanted it to be: he would have done all those things and so much more if only he could move without that constricting feeling making him want to throw up and cry and scream at the same time.
But, when Sasuke swallowed and turned abruptly around – the sky didn't fall.
The tomato didn't metamorphose into a butterfly.
Naruto was still juvenile and ridiculous and thrilling.
….Because to Sasuke Uchiha, purveyor of ambiguity, nothing had changed.
And that's the whole point.
fin.
I challenge you, as a reader, to see the ambiguity in your own life. I challenge you to see the tomato in yourself.
-- All readers are cherished, reviewers admired, flamers accepted, and constructive criticizers sent international hugs.