Story-A-Day #344: Seeds

SEEDS

I cut into the dome, driving the knife in with a little more aggression than I would have expected.  It almost feels like I am stabbing into the skull of someone who might once have wronged me.  I feel a little guilty associating this vulgar act of dessication with the memories we share.

Still, there is a great sense of satisfaction as I drive the knife in deeper and deeper and eventually expose the pulpy innards of the gourd.  Pulling the lid off the wrinkly orange dome provides great satisfaction, and for a moment - albeit a brief one, I almost feel as though I have exposed the root of the turmoil I have been made to suffer over the past few years.

I reach my hand into the opening and I can feel it all there, the tendrils of memory webbing around the seeds of all that we once were.  Each one of those seeds represents a moment that we shared, a moment in time that may have been forgotten, or that may have sprouted into something bigger and better than either one of us could recall.

The innards of this pumpkin represent the innards of our relationship.  It is a weird analogy, but if you actually think about it, it is an apt one.  Each one of those seeds represents a particular moment in time, a memory shared between the two of us, and as I gouge and into the gourd with my greedy fist, I can rip the asunder.

Each handful of seeds is another handful of memories torn from that enclosure.  Each strand of clinging filament, another obstacle for me to overcome.

I don't do this out of spite, I do it so that I can create a new face with which I can face the world.  I aim to create a grimace that will redefine my place in time, a hideous beast that will fend off the darker moments in this life.

And as I rip out those handfuls of seeds and the clinging tendrils that hold them together, I realize that the human mind is a great deal more complex then a pumpkin's innards.

Seeds can be torn asunder, but memories cling to the mind with a far greater voracity.  Such is human nature.

All things happen for a reason, for ill or gain.  The face we put forward is not susceptible to change, regardless of our best intentions.  Out actions and inactions become who we are, for better or for worse.

Our memories are who we are, and who we always will be.  For better or for worse...