The Archer

I hate oranges

The tough peel, the sticky juice

I hate that white pulp inside you have to remove to be able eat.

I hate how I need to dig my nails into the peel to open them

And how that stains my nail an almost yellow color

How the smell that sticks around no matter how many times I wash my hands.

And It's not even that I hate how oranges smell

it's just the fact that everything I try to eat after that smells just like oranges.

I don't know how someone could ever bring them every day

But still I sit here

Eating my orange scented sandwich

How are you feeling?

As if sorrow himself hath thrown his poor self apon mine own heart and sobbed

Like I should stumble under the weight of this creature that squeezes around the tender and beating amalgamation of my life's blood, straining to keep me afloat

That's what I would say if I really tried to describe this weight in my chest

But it's not your fault nor your problem I'm so dramatic

I'm doing fine thanks for asking