As a grape, you are sought after.
Raisins envy you because you are full of life.
You are bright, round and gorgeous.
They are dried up and in need of love.
You could never be friends with a raisin.
They are ill equipped to love you because they inherently hate themselves.
The only way for you to be friends with a raisin is to become one of them:
Void of sunshine and peace,
Depleted of love and joy,
Absent of greatness and laughter,
Filled with anger and agony.
Remember when you befriended a raisin? There you were, a beautiful grape who saw a lonely raisin and only wanted to care for him.
You wanted to make him happy, see him smile more
so you opened your arms and your heart to him.
You shared your joys and your loves with him in an attempt to make him feel some of what you felt as a grape.
His nature, as a raisin, kept him from appreciating these sacrifices. Instead, he pushed and sucked and pinched you until you were no longer the beautiful round grape of old. He beat you into a raisin. Made you feel just as inferior and just as lacking as him.
Weeks and weeks went by. Your grape friends finally found you among the heaps and droves of other destitute raisins. They carried your limp and lifeless body and nursed you back into the gorgeous grape you once were with doses of love, shots of joy, hours of peace, and a large prescription of happiness. In time, you eventually returned to your joyous plump state.
While on a journey, you ran across the raisin and remembered the good times you spent together. Your memories made you feel love and guilt simultaneously. The raisin, now filled with hate and resentment, because you left him wanted nothing to do with you. He barely acknowledged your existence. You wanted to be angry, too. You wanted to yell at him and make him remember all of the things you’d given up for him but you soon realized that he would never understand. He couldn’t.
He’s a raisin.
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